The Love Doctor
by Haleine Delail
Summary: Sequel to BENEVOLENCE. Our heroes visit Earth during the waning months of the Black Plague. A new menace threatens to bring the plague much closer to home! How big a sacrifice will the Doctor make to save his loved ones? 10/Martha/Jack
1. Chapter 1

_SO... THIS STORY IS A CONTINUATION OF ANOTHER STORY. IF YOU'D LIKE TO BE FULLY UP-TO-SPEED, PLEASE READ MY STORY __BENEVOLENCE__. I THINK YOU'LL ENJOY IT, HOWEVER, YOU DON'T REALLY NEED IT IN ORDER TO UNDERSTAND THIS STORY._

_BECAUSE... HERE'S A QUICK RECAP OF STUFF YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT __BENEVOLENCE__: EARTH WAS LANGUISHING IN THE BLACK PLAGUE. THE ROY-LEMANS, BENEVOLENT BEINGS WHO INHABIT THE PLANET KORR, WERE TRYING TO HELP. WITH THE DOCTOR'S ASSISTANCE, THEY CHANNELED THE PERSONALITIES AND ATTRIBUTES OF CAPTAIN JACK HARKNESS AND MARTHA JONES INTO THE EARTH'S ATMOSPHERE. THIS BROUGHT A STRONG REPRODUCTIVE IMPERATIVE AND A GREAT BENEVOLENT INITIATIVE INTO THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF THE PLANET, AND SUCCEEDED IN SLOWING THE ILL EFFECTS OF THE BLACK DEATH IN EUROPE._

_IN THE FACE OF NEAR-DEATH AT THE HANDS OF AN OVERLY ENERGETIC PERSONALITY-EXTRACTING MACHINE, THE DOCTOR AND MARTHA DISCOVERED THEIR LOVE FOR ONE ANOTHER, AND JACK BEGAN A TENTATIVE RELATIONSHIP WITH A PURPLE-SKINNED MALE ROY-LEMAN NAMED FEENO._

ONE

Ah, the first morning aboard the TARDIS after adventures with the Black Death. First morning to wake up in the Doctor's actual bed with the actual Doctor beside her. She felt like royalty, like she was occupying the one place in the universe where everyone wants to be. For her, the TARDIS represented space, time, possibilities – power. And she had the right ear of the man at the helm.

Briefly, Martha allowed herself to wonder how many before her had awakened in the same spot, but she pushed the thought away. She knew that the Doctor had been around for 900 years, and that she was unlikely to have been his first bedmate, but still, she couldn't bear the thought of anyone else knowing him as she now knew him.

The morning began unlike any other on the TARDIS. It was watershed for her that this morning, she actually watched him climb into his pinstriped suit. Even when they were sharing a room in the Guest House on Korr, even after they'd acknowledged their love and seen each other naked a few times, he had put on his clothes out of her sight. She was somehow surprised to find that he, as they say, put his trousers on one leg at a time, and was obliged to button up his shirt and tie his tie like a normal man. Did she expect him to say "Bah-woosh," and suddenly he'd be all dressed and dapper? As she thought about it, it brought a smile to her face.

As he was tying his trainers (red ones today), he asked, "Do you think Feeno eats waffles?"

The question seemed so random that she had to ask him to repeat it. He did.

"Oh! Blimey," she said, patting her forehead. "That question was on _Ultimate Quiz Show_ just last week – what was the answer?"

He looked at her with mock-scorn. "You're very _cute_, Martha," he told her. The final word was exaggerated and blunt.

She smiled. "Well, ask a silly question..."

He stood up. "I was thinking waffles might be nice for our first morning as a family... they're my favorite. But Feeno's not human. Or Time Lord. Dunno if he'll like waffles." As he said this, he stared at a point in the room beyond Martha's head, and she actually turned to see what it was. As usual, it was nothing – the Doctor was simply lost in thought.

He suddenly snapped out of it and clapped his hands. "Oh well," he exhaled. "Only one way to find out, isn't there?"

"I suppose so," she answered with a smile.

"Are you wearing that down to breakfast?" he asked. "You'll have to stay away from the griddle – it splashes."

She looked down. She didn't have a stitch on. Self-consciously, she pulled the sheet up to her armpits and threw a pillow at the Doctor. He dodged it with a child-like grin.

"I haven't brought my things over from my old room yet," she said. "Think you can go grab a few things for me?"

"Oh, just wear this, and put on your jeans," he said, turning to his wardrobe and producing a white dress shirt.

"I don't have any clean knickers."

"So do without. No one will know but me," he said, smirking with one eyebrow up.

So she donned her jeans from the day before and one of the Doctor's shirts. Barefooted, she padded down to the TARDIS' extensive kitchen with the Doctor following behind. In the hallway, they ran into Jack and Feeno emerging much as they were; sleep-refreshed and tranquilly happy.

They chatted as they made their way to the kitchen. The Doctor flipped on the lights, pulled out mixing bowls, whisks, ladles, griddles and spatulas and spread them noisily over the counter. He boisterously grabbed an apron out of a drawer and held it up high. "Captain Jack, what do you say to waffles?" he asked in a _ta-daaah_ sort of way.

"Sounds great," Jack said with a big smile, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

"Brilliant," said the Doctor. "The waffle iron is in the third drawer next to the refrigerator, and you'll find flour in the cannister far left."

To Jack's incredulous stare, he responded, "I don't know how to make waffles – you'll have to do it." With a hearty pat on the back, the Doctor handed off the apron to Jack.

With a dubious expression on his face, Jack reluctantly stood, put the apron on over his wool trousers and U.S. military-issue shirt, and began calmly, expertly, making batter. The Doctor took his place at the breakfast bar between Feeno and Martha, and watched with interest as Jack prepared their meal.

Jack, as it turned out, was a great chef. The four of them, including Feeno, ate waffles until they nearly burst.

Sated, the Doctor leaned back in his chair, and asked his three friends, "So, children, after we say hello to Martha's mum, where are we headed?"

Jack piped up. "Better question: where _are _we?"

"We're nowhere," the Doctor said simply.

"Nowhere?" Feeno asked. "How is this possible?"

"Oh, it's really cool," Martha chimed in. "The TARDIS goes into a kind of suspended animation if there's no-one available to man the console."

"Really?" Jack asked, looking interestedly at the Doctor.

"Well... sort of. We just sort of blink off the radar for a bit. We're not in any particular space or any particular time at the moment. We are undetectable to most machinery, and the universe is undetectable to us," he explained. "Otherwise I'd never get any sleep. The slightest noise wakes me up. A star explodes in the Crawlawn Galaxy, for goodness' sake, and I'm wide awake."

"So then, when we come back into existence or whatever, where do we end up?" Jack wanted to know.

"We end up wherever we left off. In our case, hovering somewhere above the Earth, round about the year 1350," the Doctor answered. "I parked us here overnight so that we could go to sleep. I figured I'd set the time coordinates in the morning so we could go have a cuppa with Martha's mum."

"Yeah, speaking of which," Martha said to him. "You'd better let me do the talking. She slapped you last time she saw you, and weren't sleeping together then. She doesn't like the look of you this time, and she'll hire a hit-man."

"Aww, don't worry love," he assured her. "I can be very charming."

"She thinks you're an intergalactic mobster. Trust me – better I do the talking."

"Doctor, might I ask you a favor?" Feeno asked, interrupting.

"Certainly."

"Before we _go have a cuppa with Martha's mum_," Feeno said, attempting to mimic the Doctor's speech pattern, "Might we make a quick trip to the current Earth? The Earth of 1350? I would like to bring back some samples for the laboratories at Earthsafe. I'm sure they would be interested to study this plague phenomenon. It might help to get me promoted past the mailroom."

"Samples of what?" the Doctor asked, wrinkling his nose.

"For example, pieces of clothing which the afflicted have worn and in which they have died. Perhaps some of their perspiration would remain as an indicator of the nature of the sickness. Or, we might search for the fecal matter or ejected stomach contents of an afflicted person..."

"Okay, okay, stop right there," the Doctor said. "We can do that, but you'll have to do all the searching for ejected stomach contents on your own."

"Oh yes," Feeno said, a bright smile lighting up his deep purple face. "Thank you, Doctor!"


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

"We won't be long," Jack said, taking his pea coat from the rack next to the TARDIS door.

"Remember – the plague is still in the air..." the Doctor warned.

"What's it going to do? Kill me? Please," Jack scoffed.

"Yeah, good point," the Doctor muttered. "Still, better safe than sorry. We know that you recover from gunshot wounds, personality extraction, open exposure to wormholes, extreme temperatures, Snarfblatt poisoning, icepick attacks, fire ants, omega-frequency singing and Ricotta cheese gone bad... but we have no idea what bubonic plague would do to you."

"I'll take my chances."

"You'll grow pustules," Martha said. "Wouldn't it be awful if that happened – and you survived? You'd lose that pretty complexion of yours."

"All right, all right, can we go now?" asked Jack.

"Yes!" said Martha, heading for the door.

The Doctor caught her arm. "Wait, wait, wait! Where do you think you're going?"

Exasperated, she stuck one hip out to the side and planted her hand on it. "I _know_ I'm going with them."

"Oh no you're not," the Doctor told her. "I almost lost you once this week. I'll not have that again. You're staying right here, where it's safe."

"Oh really? So, apparently now we're sharing a bed, you think you can talk to me like I'm five? Is that it?"

He sighed. Before, she'd listened to him because he was the Doctor and she was like his pupil. Now, the game had changed. Now that they were lovers, she was an independent woman, worried about keeping equity in their relationship. He'd have to be careful how he spoke to her if this was going to work.

"Martha, it's just not safe," he told her. He wanted to take her hands and kiss her, but at the moment, he believed that she might interpret this as condescension as well.

"Has that ever stopped us before?" she asked. "Besides, we helped save these people, and I want to see what it's like out there!"

The Doctor hadn't been planning on going on the particular excursion, content to let Feeno and Jack do all of the disgusting sample-gathering. There were some minor repairs on the TARDIS he'd rather have done. But instead, he found himself grabbing his own coat and following Martha out the door.

Fortunately, he'd been able to park the TARDIS in a little-used back alley of London where it was unlikely to be seen. Immediately, they felt the chill in the air. Martha estimated that it must be October or November, and she crossed her arms in an instictive attempt to warm herself. The Doctor noticed her discomfort and gave her his tan overcoat.

"Here, wear this. It'll cover you from neck to toe," he said. "No one here should see you wearing trousers anyway. They'll try to burn you for heresy or something."

"Gee, you'd think she didn't have a wardrobe of her own," Jack commented as Martha pulled the Doctor's coat over the Doctor's white dress shirt. Martha rather liked the feeling of it hanging long around her, smelling of the Doctor.

Up ahead abit, and to their right was what looked like a small watering hole. Outside were a group of cloaks hanging on hooks. The Doctor gave a hooded one to Feeno and urged him to keep the hood up, and not allow anyone to see his purple face or the blade ridge across his forehead.

The four of them approached the street. Coming down the incline from the right, two men dragged an oxcart piled with dead bodies. They stopped about fifty feet from where the travelers were standing, and from one of the houses nearby, a man emerged carrying the limp body of a child. He put the little boy on the pile, gave the cart-pullers a penny, and then turned back to his home. He was weeping all along, and his wife stood in the doorway, practically collapsing in tears.

On her neck, just below the jawline, Martha noticed a protruberance. She had never seen anything like it before, but her readings on bubonic plague told her that it must be the beginnings of a buboes pustule. In a few days' time, this man would be carrying his wife's body out to the street to pile her onto the oxcart.

The oxcart continued down the street for a bit, stopping again not far away. A similar scene was played out as a woman and her teenaged daughter dragged the large body of a man into the street. The two cart-pullers helped them toss the body onto the pile, and then moved on.

The Doctor, Jack and Feeno were transfixed. Only Martha spoke. "Oh my God," she gasped at the sight. "This is horrible."

"Sure is, miss," a voice said from behind them. The man must have come from the watering hole. He didn't seem to see any of the others, and he looked directly at Martha's face, and then registered her skin color. "Oh, you'll not be from 'round 'ere then. Then you don' know that this... this ain't 'alf bad, this. This is only the firs' cart o' the day, and it's high noon. Time was, by noon, there'd have been three, maybe four carts come down this stree' already, all of them piled up much 'igher than that. Yeah, I'd say the sickness is mos' definitely slowin' down. God-willin' it'll be over by Christmas."

"We'll hope," Martha said to him.

"God be with ye, miss," he said as he stepped passed her and headed up the hill.

"Doctor, _please_ tell me that we did some good here," she pleaded softly.

"You heard the man," he said, slipping his arm around her. "Two weeks ago, this was four times worse. We're seeing the end of it."

Feeno said, "Let us simply obtain what we require, and leave."

"Amen to that," Jack said.

The four of them went up the street a little way, and stopped at the house where the father had just brought the little boy out to the oxcart.

"We can stop here," Feeno said. "They are bound to have still the blankets used by their deceased son."

"Doctor, will you do the honors?" Jack asked.

The Doctor knocked on the door. It opened harshly, and the man they had just seen, with bloodshot eyes, asked, "Yes?"

"Good morrow, sir, I'm the Doctor and this is the Captain," he said, gesturing to Jack, who waved uneasily. "We are told there has recently been a death by the plague in your home."

"Yeah," the man said. "Our last son. Wha' of it? Make it quick – me wife is distraught."

"Yes, sir," the Doctor said. He flashed his psychic paper in the man's direction. "We are authorised by the... Board of... Keeping Ye Things Cleane... to collect your son's blankets and garments for the pyre. So as to keep the sickness from reaching anyone else in your household."

"Where was you before my other four children was taken, eh?"

The Doctor sputtered. Jack chimed in, "It's a new practise, sir. We've discovered that fire can neutralise the germs."

"The what?"

"The evil demons, erm, that... infest the souls of those afflicted," the Doctor said, glancing sidelong, irritatedly at Jack.

The man stared at both men for several seconds suspiciously, then checked out their companions. This, of course, caused Feeno to duck his head further so that his purple face could not be seen under his brown hood.

"Friar, what say you?" the man asked him. Jack nudged Feeno's arm.

"I say..." said Feeno, unsure.

Martha whispered to him, "Cleanliness is next to Godliness."

"Cleanliness is next to Godliness," Feeno announced, without showing his face. "Give us your soiled cloth, and we may rid your home, and this world, of the demon that sickened your boy."

The man relented. "All righ'. 'Ang on." He disappeared from the door. When he returned, he was carrying a warm, damp burlap blanket in his arms. The Doctor and Jack parted ways so that Feeno could take the germy thing in his arms. The Doctor pulled Martha away and put himself between her and the blanket.

"Thank you, sir," Feeno said to him. "You might have just saved your own life."

The Doctor, Martha and Jack all bade the man a quiet goodbye, and turned to walk away.

"'Old on a minute," the man said. The travelers turned to face him once again. He stepped outside the threshold of his front door and approached the Doctor. He smiled creepily, and asked, "What's your 'urry, Doctor?"

"My hurry?" asked the Doctor, utterly confused.

"Yeah," the man said. He looked the Doctor up and down, never letting go of the smile. "Wouldn't you like to stay for a bit? Me wife can brew us a bit o' tea. Let your friends go with the blanket... you and I can have a chat."

The Doctor stared at him, jaw agape, eyes wide. Jack stifled a giggle. The man licked his lips, then reached out to touch the Doctor's cheek, which snapped the Time Lord out of his stupor.

"Yeah, thanks," he sputtered. "Got to run. Nice meeting you!" He grabbed Martha and split for the TARDIS with Jack laughing behind him and Feeno struggling not to trip over his cloak.


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

Before Martha even had the chance to ask what was on her mind, namely "What the hell was that?" they were stopped again. This time, a heavy, middle-aged woman wedged her way into their path. She had scraggly red hair, beefy arms and if she had a waist, it didn't show. She planted herself between the travelers and their vessel.

"Doctor, is it?" she asked making a failed attempt at flirtatious sweetness.

The Doctor's eyes were as big as saucers, and his mouth seemed to be stuck in an "o" formation. Martha nudged him to speak, and in response, he sputtered, "Y-yes, yes that's me."

"I though' so," she said. As she spoke to him, she sauntered closer, utterly failing to notice that he was traveling with a group, including an attractive woman on his arm. "I couldn't 'elp overhearin'... I live next door to the Clarke family what jes' lost their youngest son. I 'eard what you said 'bout cleanliness bein' next to Godliness. That was _soooo_ eloquent, Doctor." By now she was so close, he could smell the beer on her breath. She reached out and touched his nose very lightly with her index finger, and smiled, revealing all of maybe five teeth. "Tell me another one, won' you?"

Again, he found himself sputtering. "Well... well... that was... you know it's funny, because I'm not the one who... really, it was my friend here who..." he said, gesturing to Martha, and then to Feeno. The woman didn't take her eyes off him.

"I'm Margaret Prudence Malbain," she said. "But you, sir, may call me Meg."

"Thanks, er, Meg," he said. "But my friends and I really must dash. It was nice meeting you."

At risk of being followed or pegged as otherworldly, the Doctor decided not to head straight for the TARDIS in Meg's full view – she was blocking their path anyway. Instead, they headed up a street even narrower, and had their first bit of privacy since arriving.

Martha voiced her earlier question. "What the hell was that?"

Jack was thoroughly entertained. "Man, you're horrible at this!"

"Well, I'm glad you're having a laugh, Captain Jack, but as I've mentioned before, _I'm not you_. This sort of thing doesn't happen to me every day," the Doctor insisted, unamused.

"Yes it does," Martha said, matter-of-factly. "Rose liked you. Sally Sparrow liked you. Shakespeare, Talullah with three L's and an H, not to mention Nurse Redfern. Oh, and Madame de Pompadour... though I wan't there for that one. And there's me, of course," she said, batting her eyes exaggeratedly.

He thought about it, rocking back on his heels. "I suppose you're right. But that's all been in the last year or two. This particular regeneration's gotten me into a bit of trouble."

"Nine hundred years, and this is the first time you've been good-looking?" asked Jack.

Again, the Doctor thought. "Yes, I think so." He still wasn't particularly amused. "But that doesn't explain why behemoth women _and men_ are throwing themselves at me in the street in the time of the bloody Black Plague. Surely my considerable attraction does not run as deep as all that!"

"I believe, Doctor, I may know why," Feeno offered. "Might it be because the Earth was infused with Captain Jack's reproductive instincts?"

"What? And it's all directed at Prickly and Pin-Striped here?" he asked Feeno, exasperated and gesturing to the Doctor. "I don't think so. If anything, it's Martha's influence causing this."

The four of them looked at each other. First, the Doctor's eyebrows went up in recognition, and then one by one, it dawned on each of them. The planet had been infused with the essence of Martha Jones, therefore, love of the good Doctor was in the air. There was no way around it.

"You said it, but I didn't actually believe it," the Doctor said to her.

"When did you say it?" Jack asked. "I didn't hear that."

Sputtering again from the Doctor. "Well, no, it was... when she said it, she... you _wouldn't_ have heard it... it was when... Martha was... we were... it was at a time when..."

"Oh, okay," Jack said calmly. "Post-coital small talk. I get it."

Martha's face slowly wrinkled. "Ew," she groaned. "I don't think I like this. Doctor, can we go now? Maybe come back at a time when _this _has worn off? Say... six hundred and fifty years down the line?"

"I think that's quite a good idea," he answered. "I did promise you a trip back to your mum."

"Is it back to your TARDIS now, Doctor?" Feeno asked.

"Yes, indeed," said the Doctor. He took Martha's hand and peeked around the corner to find out if Meg was gone. He muttered, "Blimey."

"What?" Martha asked nervously. She and Jack and Feeno peeked around the corner as well. There were three men, constables it seemed, inspecting the TARDIS with keen interest. They were trying to get inside.

"Oh no," Jack said. "The police are are checking out the police box." Then, after a pause, he said, "Which isn't as appropriate as it might seem to an outside observer."

From the other end of the alley, they heard hoofsteps. Another group of constables came ploughing through on horseback, shooing the "loiterers" away. The Doctor and company were forced back into the larger alleyway. Without missing a beat, the Time Lord led his friends into the watering hole where they had stolen Feeno's cloak. They took a table near the front window so that they could keep an eye on the TARDIS and its curious observers.

"Okay, now what?" asked Jack.

"We wait. Won't be long," the Doctor assured him.

Indeed, it wasn't long. After a minute or so, the constables gave up and wandered off. However, they were immediately followed by three other looky-loos who couldn't get enough of the old police box. Two women who were attractive enough, and looked to be about thirty, and a man with a very full, curly black beard were enormously inquisitive of the TARDIS. They did not touch it or try to enter as the constables had, but they were speaking to each other, chattering, really, as they explored the outside.

"Blast!" the Doctor rasped at the window.

As the Doctor was looking outside, a pretty blonde barmaid came sauntering up to their table. "I ain't seen you lot 'round 'ere before," she said. "Where you from?"

"Um... Freedonia," Martha answered quickly.

"Ah yes," Jack chimed in. "The great land of Freedonia, where the cattle run free... and so does everything else, apparently."

The barmaid looked at him curiously, then turned her attention to Feeno. "And you friar? You as well?"

Without looking up, Feeno muttered, "Yes, I as well."

"And you, sir? Are you from Freedonia too?" she addressed the Doctor.

He pulled his face from the glass abruptly and looked at her. "Eh?"

When she saw his face, she blushed. Her expression of curiosity became one of giggly embarrassment, and she began to laugh uncontrollably. She covered her face with her hands and stole glances at the Doctor as she laughed.

The Doctor, now aware of the game, stared at her deadpan. The more he looked at her, the redder her cheeks turned, and the more she giggled.

Jack decided to give the poor girl a break. "Listen, miss, can you just bring us four glasses of beer?"

Still beet-red and giggling, the girl curtsied and hurried away. As she prepared the drinks, she was glancing across the room at the Doctor. At one point, another, beefier barmaid came to her side, and the two of them gawked from across the room.

In fact, the entire room was staring at their table. Old, young, attractive, homely, man, woman alike... the Doctor was the center of attention. He had not said or done anything to bring eyes to himself since he entered the place, and yet...

"God, you must really love me," he muttered to Martha.

She was looking around the room with a sour look on her face. "Yep. Yep, I do," she said, without any feeling whatsoever. She repeated her earlier assertion. "Ugh. I really _really_ don't like this. It's like I told you before: I'm not ready to have a sense of humour about this yet."

The Doctor took her hand under the table and stroked it reassuringly. He didn't have to say anything – just his touch made her relax. They looked at each other and smiled knowingly.

"You two better be careful," Jack warned. "If they like you this much, they're going to start throwing things at Martha if they see you doing that."

"I don't mind," she said, starry-eyed, staring at her Doctor.

Staring back, his starry-eyed expression faded into that look of pure genius he gets when he's had a brilliant thought.

"I've just had a brilliant thought," he announced.

"What?" they all asked at once.

Just then, the barmaid returned to the table with a tray of four beers. The Doctor made eye contact and smiled at her. It wasn't a suggestive or flirtatious smile – it was just a friendly smile. She went red again, and found that she could not look him in the eye.

"What's your name, miss?" asked the Doctor.

"Maris," she answered, speaking directly to the floor.

"Maris, do you think you could bring me another – perhaps free of charge?"

Her eyes snapped up to his. "Oh, sir, I'd love to but... I don't think..." she glanced uneasily back to the bar where her boss was standing.

"Maris," the Doctor said, lowering his voice. "It would mean a great deal to me. It would be a _special _favor from you to me." He gave her a soft smile, coupled with large, ridiculously soulful eyes.

He had her.

"Oh," she hesitated. "All right, sir. Just a moment." She blustered off again.

The Doctor stood. "Right then. Off we go to sweet-talk some nosy medieval rubberneckers!"

* * *

Outside the tavern, Plexaphedros, Ahedruma and Maude were inspecting the TARDIS.

"Do you think they spoke the truth?" asked Ahedruma. "The negress suggested that they return in six hundred and fifty years... she was uncomfortable here."

"Yes, Ahedruma, their words implicated time travel," Plexaphedros answered, calmly, stroking his full, curly, black beard. "And their speech, clothing and demeanor indicate that they are out of their element."

"They are traveling with a negress and a Roy-Leman," Maude pointed out. "That, in and of itself, shows they are unique in this place, in this age."

"We _must_ harness the power of this vessel somehow," Ahedruma announced desperately, gesturing grandly toward the TARDIS.

"What do we do?" Maude wanted to know.

"I have a plan," Plexaphedros assured her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Stay with me, folks. This chapter is short, but sweet.**

FOUR

"Ho there, good lady," the Doctor said, speaking directly to Ahedruma.

She looked at him with great big eyes, as if in total shock, and a haughty purse of her lips. "Good sir," she said, her voice icy.

Giving her his best smile, he said, "I wonder if you might be willing to do me a personal favour."

She continued to stare, almost without blinking, and her comrades did the same. "I was wondering the same thing of you. _Doctor_." She said his name with malice. Which was completely lost on him, the unperceptive oaf.

He looked at Jack comically in a "What're you gonna do?" sort of way, almost pitying the poor woman. Then he said to her, "Oh, now now, none of that. I belong to another, I'm afraid." He took Martha's hand and smiled at her.

Ahedruma did not flinch. This time Plexaphedros spoke up. "Promised to another, are you? How interesting," he mused in an almost singsong fashion.

A whiny voice came from the third of the "medieval rubberneckers" as he had called them. Maude said, "Interesting indeed, Doctor. Tell me, are you in _love_ with this negress?"

"Oi, watch it," Martha piped up.

The Doctor squeezed her hand, and she got the message. And the message was to shut up and let him handle it.

"Yes," he answered seriously. "Yes, I am. Very deeply. So no funny business, eh?"

"Funny business?" Maude asked.

"I just need a favour is all," the Doctor said. "Can you make me immensely happy, please, by stepping away from this blue box, and never telling anyone what you've seen?"

The three strangers looked at each other. A barely-concealed laugh threatened to break their composure. "I think that would be fine," Plexaphedros said to the Doctor, his smirk conspiratorial and slippery. "I think the rules have now changed."

His tone gave the Doctor chills. Now that he knew the game, that kind of slippery talk from a greasy medieval man was more than a little disconcerting. He didn't much care for being loved by all at the moment, and he just wanted out of this year.

Plexaphedros, Ahedruma and Maude stepped away from the TARDIS, never taking their eyes off the Doctor.

"Thank you, kind folk," the Doctor said, just before pushing his key into the lock. "You have pleased me truly." He smiled at them brightly, waiting for a loving response, but he got none.

Jack and Feeno entered the TARDIS, and as Martha walked past, the Doctor bent down and gave her a kiss. They smiled amorously at each other before pulling the door shut.

Outside, Ahedruma watched them closely, and said to her compatriots, "Plexaphedros, I don't think we'll need to follow your plan. This is going to be easier than we thought."


	5. Chapter 5

FIVE

Back in the TARDIS, the Doctor commented with a shudder, "Well now, that was disquieting to say the least. You'd think it would be fun to be adored by an entire planet, but it's really not." His face showed exasperation and worry. He was glad to be getting out of here.

Feeno and Jack looked at each other, which was not lost on the Doctor.

"What?" the Time Lord asked.

"Er, Doctor," Jack began. "Have you considered that those folks might just be creepy, and not so much in love with you?"

"I concur, Doctor," Feeno said quietly, divesting himself of his cloak and hood. "I did not detect any amorous overtones in their behavior."

"Listen to him, Doc. He's got a degree in personology," Jack announced.

The Doctor looked at each of his companions in turn. Jack and Feeno looked certain, Martha less so. But then again, Martha's sensibilities were heightened as well – she too was probably seeing flirting where there was just plain eerieness.

"D'you think?" the Doctor asked. He jogged over to the door and peeked out the window. "They're still standing there. Maybe they were sad to see me go."

"Now _that_ is disquieting," Jack said, joining the Doctor at the window. "They're still there. Why would people who were casing the TARDIS and not in love with you still be standing there watching it?"

The Doctor didn't hear the question. He asked Jack, "No, no, you're wrong. When I asked the lady if she could do me a favor, she said '_I was wondering the same thing of you, Doctor._'" He tried to imitate her tone, and placed his hand on his hip in a flirtatious fashion. This would have made Jack grin from ear to ear on any normal occasion, but today, he was trying to warn his unreceptive friend of danger.

"No, she said _'I was wondering the same thing of you. Doctor,'_" Jack argued, imitating the woman in a cutting, scathing sort of way, spitting out the word _Doctor_ in exactly the unmistakable, malicious fashion that Ahedruma had.

Martha was contemplative. "Doctor, I think he's right," she said. "That woman seemed much more, you know, malevolent than amorous. That's true of the lot of them."

"Oh, you just don't want to believe it," he said, teasing her.

"Doctor, listen to him. What did he just say? He asked why would these people be having a look at the TARDIS, and still be standing out there? They want something from us, and sorry to say... I don't think it's you," she said. "At least not in the way that everyone else round here seems to want you."

The Doctor looked at Martha and Jack with befuddlement. "They don't love me?" he asked.

"I don't think so," she said. "But I still do. That's something, right?"

He continued to stare, never changing his expression. Suddenly, he snapped out of it, and conceded, "Yes, yes, of course, Martha. That's everything." He gave her a dazzling smile, and she returned him a weak one.

"Why are they not afflicted with the same amorous inclinations as the rest of the humans?" asked Feeno. "Why are they immune?"

"You think being in love with me is an affliction, do you?" asked the Doctor defensively.

"Doctor, not now," Martha said, taking his hand. "Plenty of time for the insanity later."

"Maybe they weren't here when the transfer was made," Jack suggested. "I mean, I'm not in love with the Doctor only because I wasn't on the planet when Martha's personality was outsourced."

"They weren't here?" the Doctor asked, a bit incredulous. "You mean these three adult humans _of the 14__th__ century_ were not on planet Earth two weeks ago, or whenever we were taking Martha's attributes?" He looked at Jack expectantly, waiting for him to see the illogic of his argument. He didn't have to wait long.

"I guess that doesn't make much sense, does it?" Jack admitted.

"No," the Doctor said. "But it would make sense if they weren't actually from the 14th century. Perhaps they're travelers like us."

"Or perhaps they're not human," Feeno offered. "Their demeanor was anomalous for human personology. I've read about it."

"Oh, fantastic," Martha said, throwing up her hands. "I'll never get home to see my mum."

"Martha, it's a time machine. I can get you back before you left," the Doctor reminded her.

"Okay, so they're not human. The question remains, my friends," Jack said. "What are they still doing there?"

He looked through the window again, and what he saw caused him to step back. The Doctor pressed his nose to the window as well, and when he saw, the two men looked at each other worriedly.

"What?" Martha asked.

"They're gone," the Doctor said. "Quite suddenly, they're gone."

"That is worrying indeed," Feeno commented.

But what the travelers didn't know, was that the rubberneckers were not gone at all. But they found out quickly enough as the entire TARDIS began to rock in response to the three humanoid aliens outside, pushing against the machine.

The four of them were knocked off their feet. Martha screamed, but quickly grabbed onto the railing on the TARDIS' entrance ramp in order to regain her footing. Jack did likewise, and of course, so did the Doctor. Only Feeno was driven against the wall and unable to find an equilibrium.

The Doctor climbed his way to the TARDIS console. Jack was the nearest to him, so he cried out for the Captain's help. Jack found himself directly in front of the computer screen.

"Tell it Charing Cross!" the Doctor shouted.

"Why Charing Cross?" Jack asked, shouting back, but obeying.

"Anywhere but here!" the Doctor answered. "You just tell it where to go and I'll worry about the linear toggle!"

"What the hell is the linear toggle?"

With that, the Doctor flipped the blue lever, the linear toggle, and the TARDIS made its signature whoosing/grinding sound, and the rocking stopped. A few seconds later, they had arrived at a new destination, and everyone was able to stand upright again.

"The linear toggle," the Doctor said, "Is the device that allows the TARDIS to travel, but specifically not off the planet and not out of time. Meaning, if you want to travel only a few miles, you use the linear toggle." He smiled, satisfied.

"Well okay then," Jack said, straightening his jacket.

"You two all right?" the Doctor asked of Martha and Feeno.

"All right," Martha answered, picking herself up off the floor and finding herself tangled in the Doctor's oversized coat.

"I as well," Feeno said, approaching the console.

"Well, I suppose this means we'll have to hole up for the night," the Doctor said, heading for the door.

"Can't we just stay in here? I mean, do our superhero business out there, but sleep inside here?" Martha begged. "Please? There's a plague out there, Doctor."

"I don't think that is a very good idea, Martha," Feeno told her. "The TARDIS is hidden from the alien beings now, but if we keep coming back to it, it will only draw attention."

"He's right," the Doctor told her. "Sorry. Besides, the plague is waning, and with any luck, we'll be out of here in less than 24 hours anyway. And if we have to, we can just whisk you back to 2007 and get you some antibiotics. Don't worry – we'll all be fine."

"Oh, all right," she gave in.

"Come on," Jack said heartily opening the door. "We'll find an inn, have some ale, chat with the locals. It'll be a grand old time!"

"What is ale?" asked Feeno, putting his cloak back on.

"It's like Yobb, only not as tasty," Jack answered, throwing his arm around his friend and bedmate.

The four of them swaggered off into a different neighborhood of the same London, ready to take these aliens by storm.

Only the aliens were still attached to the TARDIS. Yes, the vessel was hidden between some buildings fallen into disrepair because of the plague. But Plexaphedros, Ahedruma and Maude were clinging to its sides like large spiders. Large laughing spiders.


	6. Chapter 6

SIX

As promised, they found an inn in a clandestinely Jewish quarter of the city, where Martha had recommended they try to find lodging. At first, the innkeeper's wife was reluctant to accept the travelers because she, as everyone, believed that Feeno was a Christian Friar in his robe. But the Doctor was able to appeal to her own sense of religious charity (read: her utter kneecap-melting attraction to him), and eventually they were accepted.

However, the four of them were still regarded skeptically. After the matron allowed them into the inn, her husband protested that he'd not have any "funny business" in _his_ establishment. He looked at the motley crew of travelers with angry suspicion. Two peculiarly-dressed, dandy-looking men (one of them made him feel kind of funny...), an African woman and a Friar. What were these people playing at?

"Oh, there's no need to worry, sir," the Doctor assured him. "This is my wife, and these are my friends. We are on a charity mission from the parish of Tardis." He flashed his psychic paper. "Please allow us to enter your fine home, and we shall not disturb you but for a bit of bread and a candle or two."

Feeno poised his hands in prayer uncomfortably, as an afterthought.

"Married to a negress, eh?"

Martha whispered in exasperation, "What is it with these people and that word?"

"Shh," Jack advised. "It could be a lot worse."

"I'm not sure that's even legal," the man said. "I dunno about this..."

"Then split us up. Whatever. Do you have room or not?" Martha spat, impatiently.

"Got two. Five pennies per room, per nigh'," he warned.

"Fine," the Doctor said flatly, rather eager to end this discussion.

The innkeeper regarded them once more with caution, and then said, "Why not? Righ' this way." He grabbed two keys from under the desk and pushed past his new guests and tromped up the stairs.

They followed him to the second floor. The hallway was short and had five doors. He indicated one of them. "This is for the two men and the Friar," he announced. Gesturing to the room adjacent, he said, "And this is for the lady. Remember, no funny business."

"Yes, sir," the Doctor promised. "Thank you."

Jack and Martha each took a key, and the innkeeper disappeared down the stairs.

"Oh, if only he knew how funny the business is," Jack mused.

"Yeah, well, you'd best be glad he doesn't," the Doctor said. "He'd toss us out of here in a flash if he knew you were sharing a bed with a purple Friar from another planet."

As she unlocked the door, Martha muttered, "Something you don't hear every day. Unless you're us."

The innkeeper was nowhere in sight, so the Doctor followed her, and Feeno followed Jack. None of the four of them left their rooms again that night, though no one exactly went to sleep right away. They all foresook food in exchange for the pleasure of someone else's company – oh, the business was indeed funny that evening, though they were careful not to draw attention to themselves. Perhaps the possibility of scandal boiled their blood, restrained though their exertions necessarily remained. Fun was fun, but any stray moaning heard through the paper-thin walls, and the lot of them were done-for, perhaps even jailed or hanged. And so they smouldered in heavy, breathy silence.

Lying in the dark, having long-since blown out the last candle on the night table, and more recently having burned down the flame of the good Doctor now sleeping lightly beside her, Martha marveled at her own prescience. This morning, when she had awakened in the TARDIS' master suite, she had felt as though she were in the position where everyone wanted to be. Now, on this Earth, here in 1350 with the Love Doctor running about, that was literally true. She turned on her side and cuddled up to him. He smiled slightly in his weightless slumber.

She was just drifting off to sleep in her contentment when the door to their room opened. Two cloudy figures entered the room, and in her half-conscious dream state, she thought idly, "Oh, isn't that interesting – this lot has taken to accosting the Doctor in his sleep. I am indeed a lucky woman..."

"He's awake – move quickly," Ahedruma whispered to Plexaphedros. She observed that Martha had not much stirred, but she could see the Doctor's wide eyes burning in the dark.

In a millisecond, Plexaphedros had the Doctor pinned to the straw mattress with his knee and left arm, and his mouth covered with the right arm. The Time Lord watched in horror as Ahedruma injected Martha's arm with a dark liquid, from an implement that looked very much like a twentieth-century syringe. For a few seconds, Martha struggled, and then went limp, seeming simply to drift off to sleep.

Then, Ahedruma injected the Doctor with the same substance. Just before he drifted off himself, he saw a second syringe plunged into Martha's arm...

And then he saw nothing more for quite some time.


	7. Chapter 7

**_HERE, THE DOCTOR DOES BOOKWORM RESEARCH. PLEASE EXCUSE THE SHAMELESS NOD TO THE BUFFYVERSE. I'M A GREAT JOSS WHEDON FAN, AND FRANKLY, BOOKS ARE OUR FRIENDS._**

**_AND REMEMBER, AS A WISE WOMAN ONCE WROTE, "REVIEWS ARE LOVE."_**

SEVEN

Waking was difficult. Moving even more so. The Doctor moaned at the horror of being pulled from a drug-induced slumber, and made a half-hearted mental note to find out what in God's name that black liquid was.

It took some work, but eventually, his eyes came fully open and he assessed the situation. He lifted his head; he was wearing his own blue shirt and pinstriped trousers, though he had no idea what had become of his tie, jacket or shoes. He looked around at the grey shadows in the dark room. A wardrobe, bookshelves, staircase. He realised he was back in his own bedroom inside the TARDIS. A temporary sense of relief overcame him, until it dawned on him that the last thing he remembered was being at the inn with the inhuman rubberneckers, whom he had thought they'd lost when he'd moved the TARDIS to Charing Cross.

So why the hell had they brought him back here?

Better question: he'd been naked when they came into the room, so who had put his clothes back on him?

He shook that one away. Hard as it was to believe, there really were a few things in this universe that he just didn't want to know.

He was comforted to see Martha slumbering by his side. He checked to make sure she was breathing – all seemed fine. She was also fully clothed once more, in her own jeans and his white dress shirt. But he wondered what had become of Jack and Feeno. He sort of hoped they were still at the inn. Whatever was going on, it would be an indicator that they were 'below the radar,' as it were, and that they would be able to help from outside the situation.

He leaned over and switched on the bedside lamp. His hopes were dashed. There, lying on the floor near the foot of the stairs, were Jack and Feeno, undoubtedly having been tranquilized with the same brutally drowsy black fluid. Their heads were supported by cushions from the sofa, and they were covered with an extra blanket the Doctor kept in the wardrobe.

The Doctor's tan trenchcoat, suit jacket and tie were draped over the back of a nearby chair, and his red trainers were sitting neatly on the seat. Martha's shoes and brassiere were piled carefully under the same chair. Jack's peacoat, braces and boots were hanging from the post at the bottom of the stairway's bannister, and Feeno's stolen cloak was hanging from a hook in the wall.

The rubberneckers had gone to a lot of trouble to bring them back here and make them comfortable. That must mean that they were intending to keep them in this room for a while. Perhaps he could find out who they were and what they wanted before they came back and started making demands.

But if he was going to immerse himself in literature, he'd need some backup. He set about trying to wake Jack first, as he was the one with the most weapons/combat training, and he was the most impervious to physical harm.

"Jack! Jack!" the Doctor whispered as he jostled his friend. "Wake up!"

Captain Jack did not stir.

The Doctor gave up whispering and shouted, "Jack! Wakey wakey!"

This time, Jack groaned, and the words, "Your husband won't be home for another hour," came out.

With a hearty roll of his eyes, the Doctor said, "Jack, I know you're awake."

Jack opened his eyes and smiled. "Eh, just thought I'd mess with you a bit." He sat up and looked around. "Where the hell are we?"

"We're in the TARDIS, in my bedroom," the Doctor explained. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Jack thought. "Erm... we were at that inn. You know, the one with the Jewish couple and the 'no funny business'. Feeno and I... " he looked at the Doctor, who raised one eyebrow. "... conducted our affairs, and then we fell asleep. And now we're here."

"You don't remember seeing anyone come into your room?"

"No," Jack said. "Do you?"

"Yes," the Doctor answered. "Those rubberneckers snuck in just as we were drifting off, and injected us with some kind of black fluid, which put us both out."

"Probably the same thing happened to me, then. The same sort of tranquilizer, don't you think?"

"Most likely. And then they injected Martha with something else just as I was losing consciousness, and I have no idea what that did to her. All I know is that she's breathing."

"Well, that's a relief."

"I'm going up there," the Doctor explained, gesturing to the loft that wrapped around the top of the room, which was packed with books. "I'm going to try to find out who they are and what they want. I'll need you to go have a look around the TARDIS and find out whether we're alone in here. My thinking is, we're not."

"Aye aye," Jack said. He stood, groaning as a sharp pain blasted him on the right side of his head. "How do you plan on researching these things? They look human, and we didn't catch any names."

"I'm going to start with the black liquid," the Time Lord told him, sitting down on the bed near Martha. "Maybe that will narrow it down."

Jack cradled his throbbing head. "Well, as criteria, you should consider the fact that this particular black liquid seems to cause a wicked migraine in human beings."

"Duly noted," said the Doctor, turning to face his lovely, sleeping companion.

He shook her gently. "Martha? Martha?" he said softly, not wishing to startle her. He didn't know what kind of poison those _things_ had put in her blood, and had no idea whether a minor shock could kill her, put her in a coma or turn her into a giant turtle. He was flying blind here, and he needed Martha awake, as she was the only one who could say what she was feeling as a result of the injection, and she was better equipped than any of them to diagnose and/or deal with her condition.

Meanwhile, Jack woke Feeno and explained the situation. Feeno was dismayed indeed, but he assured Jack and the Doctor that he'd stand shoulder-to-shoulder with them and do whatever it might take to win the day.

Those were his exact words. Jack just smiled and said "Thanks." Sometimes, he really wasn't sure how to respond to Feeno's literalness and formality.

The Doctor tried again to rouse Martha, then tried again, eventually resorting to shouting. Nothing could convince her to awaken. Whatever she'd been injected with, it was something much more potent than the black liquid.

Jack said, "Why don't you try again in about a half-hour, and in the meantime, hit the books. If you can find out who put us here, then you can probably figure out how to help Martha. Feeno and I will case the joint, find out if we're being held hostage or what. Do you have any weapons?"

"I keep them for emergencies," the Doctor said flatly. He gestured toward a door near the bed. Jack and Feeno entered, and seconds later emerged, each with a stunning ray gun and a couple of power reserve cartridges.

"It's a big ship, Jack," the Doctor warned.

"I know that, Doctor. Just in case, is there another way out?"

"No, the only way in or out is through the control room. If I were you, I would start there.

"Good idea," Jack said. He gazed sadly at Martha. "Get her back, eh?"

"I can think of nothing else," the Doctor said, barely moving his lips.

* * *

The Doctor's next attempt at waking Martha was fruitless. He even tried getting into her mind, to try to provoke her through her dreams, but even this avenue proved unsuccessful.

He glanced at the clock; almost time to try again. Jack and Feeno had been gone nearly an hour, and he'd heard nothing. He wasn't sure when it would be time to worry, as he wasn't sure how long it would take for them to explore the entire TARDIS. He himself had never attempted to cover the entire vessel in a day before.

The text he was looking at practically made his eyes go crossed. It was written in tiny, tiny lettering, and it was written in Nevolish Sral. It was a language with which he had a passing familiarity, as he'd visited the planet more than once, but he was by no means fluent. He was just about to give his 900-year-old eyes a break, when the word _sedative_ jumped out at him, followed by the word _black_.

He finished the paragraph excitedly, going over it a second time to make sure he'd gotten it right. His hearts were pumping now at this sign of progress!

He marked the passage with a bit of paper, tore off his glasses and bounded down the stairs. He silently willed Martha to awaken this time, hoping he would not have to resort to his next plan: a bucket of cold water.

As he placed his hand across her forehead, his luck began to turn. Martha actually stirred! He said her name excitedly, and she opened her eyes. She was disoriented, but she was awake. He sighed with relief, and pulled her to him. He kissed the top of her head, and she weakly hugged him back.

"What's happened?" she asked, looking around. He explained everything, including the fact that he'd found out the name of the species that had caused this.

"What's a Namuh Gnieb?" she asked.

"I don't know," he told her. "But I'm going to find out."


	8. Chapter 8

**_THE FOLLOWING SCENE DEPICTS A POWER PLAY BY THE ALIENS. SURE THERE ARE OTHER OPTIONS, BUT THEY WANT THE INFERIORS TO DO THEIR BIDDING... MWA HA HA!_**

EIGHT

The Doctor's bedroom was only three passageways from the control room. And it was a good thing too, because not until today had Jack begun to realise the size of the vessel. He was glad that the Doctor had chosen to take one of the front parlours as his sleeping quarters, and had left the music room, sewing room, convalescent ward, foosball tournament room, and the like, for the more elaborate back passages.

Quietly, Jack and Feeno made their way down to the control room, where the Doctor had suggested that they begin looking for captors... if there were, indeed, captors. They put their backs against the wall and held their stunners at the ready. Carefully, Jack peeked around the corner into the control room. There, sitting on the Doctor's stool, was one of the female rubberneckers.

"Crap," Jack whispered, teeth clenched.

"Our fears have been confirmed?" asked Feeno.

Jack nodded, and looked his friend meaningfully in the eyes. His look was meant to convey one clear meaning: _For Martha._

They ventured into the control room, stunners at the ready. Their presence was not lost on Maude, who was occupying the space normally reserved for friends of the TARDIS.

"Such noble men," she said silkily, as she slid her gaze over to meet them.

"I'm glad you think so," Jack said, aiming the stunner straight at her torso. "Now, you're going to put your hands in the air, and you're going to step away from the console. And then you're going to tell me who you are, what you're doing here and why you've brought us here."

Maude didn't make a move, other than to smile condescendingly, and to say, "And _I'm_ glad _you_ think all of that. It's rather cute that you think you could actually have the upper hand."

Jack and Feeno glanced at each other, but did not speak.

"Agreed," a voice behind them said. "Especially with weapons such as those. You didn't even come prepared to shoot to kill. Tsk tsk."

Jack turned and faced Plexaphedros, heavily armed, who had come down the hall and through the doorway through which he and Feeno had just come. Ahedruma was not far behind, similarly armed. Feeno kept his stunner trained on Maude.

"That's a Class-4 Carrio-Incendo-Particulator," Jack said to Plexaphedros, lowering his own weapon.

"Yes," Plexaphedros conceded. "It would burn you to ash in ten seconds."

Jack felt rather defeated. He had seen far more potent weapons in the Doctor's storage closet, but he had opted for these non-lethal stunners because he knew how the Doctor hated violence.

_Note to self,_ he thought. _Sometimes the Doctor is wrong. Get used to it._

"Your friend is doing you no good, Captain," Maude said. She was just as slippery as before.

"Feeno," Jack warned. "Lower the stunner."

Maude smiled. "Yes, that will do."

Feeno did as advised. As Plexaphedros, Ahedruma and Maude encircled them, Jack and Feeno stood back-to-back in a defensive stance.

"Now," Plexaphedros said, sauntering about like a proper villian. "We do not wish to kill either one of you, particularly. Killing is messy. But, you will deliver a message to the Doctor, or we _will_ use our incendiary device on you and your boyfriend here."

"Deliver it yourself," Jack spat, defiantly. "We are not your lackeys."

"Careful, Captain," Ahedruma warned. "It's medieval Christian Europe. Suicide is a sin in this world, remember?"

Jack scoffed. Then he full-out laughed. "So are a lot of the things that I do – not gonna stop me. Go ahead, vaporise me. I welcome the peace." He held his arms open.

"Jack," Feeno whispered with concern, through clenched teeth.

"Will you deliver the message, or shall we deliver it ourselves, attached to a large vial of both of your ashes?" asked Plexaphedros. "Perhaps that's a better idea anyhow. It might serve as incentive for the Doctor to act!"

"Go screw yourself," Jack shot back.

As the blast from the Carrio-Incendo-Particulator hit his body, he realised his error. In a moment, he'd be out cold, presumed dead, and his purple-faced friend would be defenceless. As he felt his molecules re-arrange themselves, he had one final, desperate thought: _Please don't hurt Feeno._

In a flash, Ahedruma rounded on Feeno. He was startled. She put her finger on the trigger, and then inexplicably stopped herself. She lowered the weapon, eyes narrowed, never leaving Feeno's face.

"You, on the other hand," she said to him, "have friends who do you _much_ good."

"Good Depdok," Maude breathed in amazement. "How did he not vaporise?"

Feeno stared at Jack's lifeless body for a few moments, and remembered that there had been rumors on Korr that Jack Harkness was immortal. He had, interestingly, forgotten to ask his companion about it. He hoped it was true now.

"It makes no difference that his body is intact. The Incendo-Particulator kills, my Roy-Leman friend," Maude insisted. "It is up to you now. Will you deliver a message to the Doctor?" she asked.

"I will," Feeno agreed.


	9. Chapter 9

NINE

The Doctor was checking Martha's pupils when there came a bang at the bedroom door. He had no sooner awakened his lovely than the action began again.

The two of them looked at each other worriedly. "Wait here," the Doctor whispered. He was worried that she might be too weak to fight, or even run, if worse came to worst. He grabbed a small marble bust of Winston Churchill to bash an assailant over the head, and then carefully opened the door.

It was Feeno, dragging Jack by the collar.

"Feeno!" the Doctor cried out, dropping Winston and bending down to help. "What the hell happened?"

Breathlessly, Feeno answered, "They wanted Captain Jack to bring a message to you, Doctor, but he refused. So they killed him. I believe they used a Incendo-Particulator to do the job."

Martha had arisen and crossed the room to assist. She had picked up his feet, though was having some difficulty, as she was feeling weak. She knew that it wasn't simply from having been sedated, because she also felt feverish, but she said nothing. She did not need to alarm this lot – not just now.

"They used what?" she asked.

"Class 3 or class 4?" the Doctor asked Feeno.

"Class 4, I think I heard Jack say."

The Doctor exhaled with a bit of a whistle. He was amazed, a bit in awe. He told Martha, "It's a 32nd century model of a disintegrating gun. It takes flesh and burns it to ash in a matter of seconds."

"But Jack did not turn to ash," Feeno said, not daring to broadcast his hope that his friend might still be okay.

"Oh don't worry about Jack, he'll be back 'round in a minute," the Doctor said, matter-of-factly, beginning to pace. Feeno's face lit up, and he felt immensely relieved.

"So wait aminute. They wanted him to bring a message to the Doctor?" Martha asked. "And he refused?" She sounded just a bit incredulous.

"Yes, Jack refused. But I agreed," said Feeno, unsure of whether to deliver the news apologetically or proudly.

The Doctor stopped pacing. "So? What is it? What's the message?"

Feeno glanced at Martha uneasily. This was not lost in the Doctor, who prodded, "Feeno, it's okay. I won't kill the messenger. I just need to know what they want."

Reluctantly, Feeno confessed, "They said 'come to the control room, or the negress dies.'"

Martha shouted,"What? Well, that's rubbish, isn't it?" She looked at the Doctor imploringly. "Isn't it? I mean, I'm in here with you. They can't get to me... can they?"

The Doctor stared at her – she didn't like it. A realisation had dawned upon him, and he was reluctant to voice it. She always hated those few moments in which he kept her in the dark, before he decided to tell.

"Stop looking at me like that," she demanded. "Just tell me what's going on."

"They injected you with something that will kill you if I don't give them what they want," he said.

She gestured to the books. "Okay, so we figure out what it is, and we try to fight it off," she said, a little to lightly. She crossed to the Doctor and put her arms around his torso. "You and I, lover, we're a clever pair. We can do anything."

He smiled at her. It was a sincere, but reserved smile. It reflected how she felt as well. He kissed her, and then clapped his hands and announced, "Right then, research again."

As if awakened by the loud clap, suddenly, Jack intook a huge breath, coughed a few times, and then sat upright. Feeno was more demonstrative than most Roy-Lemans, but he did not display human-levels of visible emotion by any means. However, now, he was so thankful, he actually fell to his knees beside Jack, and hugged him. "I'm very relieved, Jack," he said, his voice tinged with emotion.

As Jack caught his breath, he patted Feeno's arm, currently wrapped tightly around his neck and chin, and said, "Hey, it's okay. No need to worry anymore. I'm a tough one to pick off, you'll find."

They smiled at one another in recognition of a deepening bond, and then Jack asked, "So... what's happening?"

"Martha's been poisoned," the Doctor told him, beginning to pace again. "Welcome back, by the way."

"Thanks," Jack said, getting to his feet. "Martha's been poisoned? You mean, like, more than the rest of us?"

"The rest of us were _sedated_, Jack. They gave her something else, and they relayed a message to me that I should come to the control room or she dies," the Doctor explained, still pacing, his words coming out more and more machine-gun-style.

"You brought the message?" Jack asked Feeno. "What are we, their secretaries?"

"They killed you! What was I supposed to do?"

"I gave my life trying to hold our position, and you just cave?"

"You didn't give your life! You're standing here talking to me," Feeno insisted.

"Neither here nor there. Well, how long did you wait before bowing down to them? Five seconds? Half an hour, what?"

"What does it matter?"

"Look, enough!" the Doctor shouted. "We've got bigger problems now. We need to find out what kind of biological weapons the Namuh Gnieb use, so that we can figure out how to help Martha, and can avoid futher becoming their... secretaries." He squirmed a bit as he pronounced the word _secretaries_, as though the thought of that was so hideous, he could barely stand to say the word aloud.

"Doctor, excuse me, but did you say Namuh Gnieb?" Feeno asked cautiously.

"Yes," the Doctor said, looking anxious. One eyebrow up, his teeth showing. "Why?"

"I have heard of them," Feeno told them. "They are very dangerous, indeed. I know because I studied them in some of my upper-level personology courses. They are the _anti-human_."


	10. Chapter 10

TEN

"The anti-human?" Martha asked.

"Yes, the Namuh Gnieb were created by the Otromalos race to be the opposite of human, in hopes of canceling out the human race. We studied them as a way to reverse-define humanity," Feeno explained. "Many of my fellow students did not believe in their existence, believed them to be a myth or extinct."

"The anti-human," the Doctor repeated, but more contemplatively. "That means they would know all human weakness, because to them, it's a strength!"

"That's what makes them so dangerous," Feeno said, despairing, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"But if they were meant to cancel out the human race, that means there are more of them," Jack said, his voice rising.

"Well, as the story goes," said Feeno. "They made several million, but with several design flaws. They were exiled to a distant planet, and left to die out. I suppose it is rather surprising that some survived this long."

"They must be reproducing," Martha figured.

"Probably not," Feeno said. "Part of being the opposite of human is that they are not at all attuned to, or interested in, sexuality. They do not respond to the self-preservation instict in this way."

"Ah, that would be a pretty serious design flaw," the Doctor said. "More accurately, a flaw in their logic."

Worriedly, Martha felt compelled to ask, "So how _do_ they respond to the self-preservation instinct?"

"By destroying others, of course," Feeno answered, expressionlessly.

A hush fell over the room as the implications of this revelation sunk in. "So did they come after us because they knew that we would try to stop them? I mean, did they recognise the Doctor or something?"

"More likely they recognised his time-travel vessel," Feeno said, thinking aloud. "But clearly they need the Doctor for something, otherwise they would not have poisoned Martha."

"So what do they want?" asked Jack.

"I suspect they will only tell the Doctor, since they want him in the control room."

"Well I'll tell you what," Martha practically shouted, piercing the somber mood, "You're not going in there alone. I'm not turning you loose to be particulated or whatever."

"She's right, Doctor," Jack agreed. "We'll present a united front. Besides, I kind of want them to see me all alive and stuff." He smiled broadly, placing his hands on his hips, proud of his resilience.

"All right," the Doctor said. "But we need to know more. We don't have loads of time, obviously, if they've injected Martha with something, but I don't think we should go in there until we know specifically how to fight them."

"We need to delegate," Martha decided. "I'll try to work out what's wrong with me, what sort of poisoning I've had."

"Any symptoms?" the Doctor asked her.

"Um, not yet," she lied.

He wasn't fooled. "Martha."

She sighed. "Feverish. Bit of nausea."

Jack joked, "Craving pickles too? Maybe they didn't inject you with just a syringe."

She pulled a face. "Ew. Shut up, Jack."

"Yeah, shut up, Jack" the Doctor agreed, making a similar face.

"Don't worry, Martha," Feeno reassured her, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Earth is one of the few planets whose inhabitants cannot become impregnated outside their own species. It's one of the things that defines the word _species _on Earth. Which, as an Earth scientist, you probably know."

"Good, Feeno, thanks for that," Martha said, still with a bit of disgust apparent on her face. She looked at the Doctor, and whispered, "Although, that does save _us _a conversation."

Jack heard it, and smiled.

Now it was the Doctor's turn to sigh. He muttered, "Fever and nausea. That could be anything." He took her head and shined a light in her eyes once more. "Open your mouth."

She obeyed him reluctantly. "Nothing yet," he whispered. "You keep us updated on your symptoms."

"Yes, Doctor," she said, rather cheekily. "And in the meanwhile, I'll be up there." She indicated the upper floor, strewn now with books. She mounted the staircase and dove into the section labeled _Medicine_.

"Okay, so Martha's working on… curing Martha. What should _we_ do?" asked Jack.

"Well, Feeno, can you read Nevolish Sral?" asked the Doctor.

"Not well at all - I've only a passing knowledge. My training is in human languages, unfortunately."

"Then I'll go back to the Nevolish Sral book where I found references to the Namuh Gnieb race and their sedatives… I was starting to get on a roll with the language. Feeno, since you seem to know the most about them, I'd like you to scour the rest of the library and look for any other references you can. How many human languages do you know?"

"Let's see, English, French, Russian, Farsi, Latin, Japanese… I don't know. Quite a few."

"Good, that might be of some use, since this species might actually be _related _to humans. The Otromalos might have used real human DNA in creating the anti-humans," the Doctor postulated. "I have human texts up through the seventy-eighth century. Perhaps somewhere along the way, the humans figured it out."

"And me?" asked Jack.

"Sentry duty," the Doctor answered, quite seriously.

"Are you serious?"

"Quite."

"Aw jeez," Jack protested. "What am I, the muscle, while you guys are the brains?"

"Yes."

The two of them stared at each other for a bit, the incredulous man and the steely Time Lord. Jack waited for the Doctor to say something more, but nothing more came.

"Fine," Jack pouted. "I'll go stand over there with my big stun gun while the clever folk save the day."

"Oh, don't be such a child," the Doctor said. "It's not like I don't think you're capable of research. But we need someone who can read Nevolish Sral, we need someone who can wade quickly through medical texts, we need someone who will recognise a reference to the Namuh Gnieb when he sees it, and we need someone trained in armed combat. Or have you forgotten that we're being held hostage here? Which one of those people would you be?"

Jack stared back at the Doctor defiantly, and finally said, "I'll need a bigger gun, then."

"You know where the closet is."

As Jack slipped past him, the Doctor grabbed his arm and said, again, quite seriously, "Honestly Jack. You _are _providing a much-needed service. Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Jack said, wading into the weapons closet to find something comparably formidable as the Incendo-Particulators that their adversaries were using. He knew the Doctor was right, they _did _need someone to keep watch while the bookworms did their work, but he had a feeling that the Namuh would not come looking for them, and he felt quite ineffectual as the "muscle" of the operation, when he knew that he could make as much headway doing research as Martha or Feeno could.

With a big sigh, he set the bust of Churchill back up on the shelf, and took his post just inside the door.

The scene was intense and quiet for a solid fifteen minutes, until the Doctor looked up at Martha and asked, "Having trouble breathing?"

She pulled her eyes from the textbook in her lap and said, "I guess so."

"I've been listening. Over the past fifteen minutes, your lungs have been filling with fluid."

She shrugged, and looked at him despairingly. "Still could be anything."

"You're right about that," he said, taking off his glasses. He closed the three feet of floor space between them and placed his hands behind her ears. He pushed a bit on her skull.

"You're not losing bone mass," he said. "Your head is as hard as ever."

"Oi, watch it," she joked quietly, with a gentle smile.

He ran his fingers gently up the back of her head. "There isn't a seam forming up the back of your skull, either, so they aren't incubating you for a brain extraction."

With mock relief, she said, "Well that's _always _good news."

By this time, Feeno had come across the room to crouch nearby. He was examining her as well, though from a bit further away. "What are those?" he asked.

"What are what?" asked Martha.

"Those. She's got a protruberance beneath her left ear," Feeno said, pointing to the area in question.

The Doctor ran his hands down the side of her head and neck, and felt, as Feeno had said, a pustule below Martha's left ear. He pushed at it. It gave softly, as though filled with fluid.

Tears formed in Martha's eyes, as she knew the implications.

"Oh dear," sighed the Doctor.

"I have the plague," she said softly as the tears fell.

**As a wise woman once wrote: _Reviews are love. Feedback keeps us young!_**


	11. Chapter 11

**If you've subscribed to this story, and you've received three or more notifications of the chapter 11 update, sorry about that. I had some issues with formatting and kept having to delete and resubmit!**

ELEVEN

"Your work here is done, Martha," the Doctor insisted, pulling her to her feet. "You get in bed."

"But I'm not _that _sick yet," she pleaded. "Let me continue to help."

"No, your job was to figure out what was wrong with you, and now that we know that, the rest of us can carry on. Go to bed."

"Give me a book. I'll work with you while I'm lying down and resting," she said, holding out her hand.

He put only his own hand upon it. "Martha, this is not a cold. Or flu or even smallpox. You have _the black plague_, and it's the year 1350, and there is no way for us to get to any antibiotics to treat it without going to the control room, which is currently overtaken by the aliens who did this to you. Your only chance is to get in bed and stay there. Do not exert yourself, do not even think."

As he talked, he escorted her down the stairs. Now, they were near the bed, and she looked at him sceptically. She was only agreeing to this because she knew he was right; she still didn't like the idea of him ordering her around. "Okay, but you let me know the minute you discover anything useful."

"It's a promise," he said to her. He wasn't sure if he would or could keep the promise, but he would have said anything to get her off her feet and resting.

And she must have been more exhausted and run-down than she let on because she was asleep almost from the moment her head hit the pillow. He reminded himself that he needed to burn these sheets as well as the clothes that Martha was wearing, as soon as she was well again.

Jack double-checked the locks on the bedroom, and left his post at the door. He came toward the stairs just as the Doctor did.

"So, what's our priority?" asked Jack.

The Doctor ran his hand nervously through his hair. He took a deep breath and began speaking a mile a minute. "I... I honestly don't know. Part of me says that it's helping Martha, but in this time and place, there isn't a way to help Martha. So then, part of me thinks it's finding out more about the Namuh, but then part of me thinks that's wasting time because if I just went out to the control room, I could just give them what they want, and _they _would cure Martha. But then, part of me thinks I can't trust them to do that, and is terrified that even if I give them what they want, they'll still just let her die."

By this time, both hands were tugging at his hair, and his eyes were wild and hearts racing. He calmed for a brief moment, enough to say, "Blimey, there seem to be lots of parts of me, don't there?"

Jack smiled, and patted the Doctor on the back. "It's called being in love, my friend. You get pulled in a million directions, and all of them lead back to the same place."

The Doctor turned and gazed at Martha, already slumbering, though quite fitfully, getting worse by the moment. His hands squeezed the banister as he felt the despair creep up. "We've got to save her, Jack. I haven't come this far just to lose her now, in my own home."

"So let's not," Jack said, matter-of-factly, though reassuringly. He clamped his hand on the Doctor's shoulder and led him up the stairs, back into research territory.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Feeno said softly, "Doctor, Captain, I think I have found something."

They looked at him expectantly, and he stood up. "I don't know how much this will help in our current situation, but it appears that the Namuh Gnieb have a kind of loose telepathic response to human thought."

"A loose telepathic response?" asked the Doctor.

"Yes," Feeno said, uneasily. "But you'll have to forgive me. This text is written in a language I only loosely understand anyway. It resembles some human languages that I recognise, but…"

"Just give me whatever you've got," the Doctor said, trying desperately not to be curt with the nervous Roy-Leman, who clearly just wanted to help.

"Well, near as I can tell, it's not a conscious power that they have," Feeno attempted to explain. "This author even suggests that it's possible that they don't even know they have this power. They can unconsciously hear human thought, which is a by-product of being, well, the opposite of human."

The Doctor was deeply in thought, and muttered, "Humans can only hear and respond to spoken articulations. An anti-human would be unfettered by verbal language."

"Whoa, being an anti-human is more complicated than I would have thought," Jack said, looking over Feeno's shoulder.

"That's because being _human_ is more complicated than you realise," the Doctor said. Jack, the only currently conscious human, felt a pang of resentment about a non-human making assumptions about what he did or did not realise about his own humanity. But he did not argue. Even though he had made the earlier mental note that sometimes the Doctor is wrong, he knew that he should be very selective about when he heeded that thought.

Suddenly, the shadow of a memory began to form in Jack's mind.

_Note to self: Sometimes the Doctor is wrong. Get used to it._

_Your friend is doing you no good, Captain._

Jack was remembering. Humans have so many _unconscious_ thoughts. _Breathe. Ooh, the food is too hot! My leg hurts. Oh, there's a tree there - better swerve to the left to avoid it. _So many of those, that when a really clear, conscious thought worms its way in, when, even in a moment under duress, a man has the very clear revelation that _sometimes the Doctor is wrong_, it is memorable. At a key moment, it can be vividly called upon to come forth as needed…

"Jack, are you all right?" the Doctor asked, noticing the Captain's wrinkled brow.

"I was just remembering," he said, staring blankly at the carpet. "I remember I was facing the Namuh. We were there, in the control room, and I remember thinking that I wished I'd had a weapon as lethal as theirs, but I'd chosen the stunner because _you_, Doctor, you hate killing. And then I consciously, very clearly, thought _sometimes the Doctor is wrong_. As soon as I thought that, the female alien said _your friend does you no good, Captain_. I assumed she meant that Feeno wasn't helping any by pointing the stunner at her, so I told him to stop. And she said _yes, that will do_. It was as though it wasn't what she'd wanted, but was an acceptable solution anyhow."

An intelligent, dawning smile was spreading across Jack's face as he spoke, and the Doctor's face was responding in kind.

"But what she was really saying was that _I _wasn't doing you any good by influencing you not to kill and maim and the like…" he smiled maniacally. "Oh Jack, I think you're on to something."

"Well, at least we now have a specific example of how it works," Jack said.

"All right now," the Doctor said, placing both hands on Jack's shoulders. "Think hard. Did this happen more than once when you were in the control room with them?"

Jack closed his eyes tight. After a few moments, he opened his eyes, and turned quickly to Feeno, "When we were in the corridor, just before going into the control room, we looked at each other. What were you thinking?"

Feeno seemed confused at first, and then it dawned on him. "I was thinking that we were about to go in there for the sake of Martha."

"I was too," Jack said. "And do you remember what the alien lady said when we went in there?"

"I'm afraid I don't, Jack."

"She called us noble men. Noble! She was responding to my thought that we were doing it _for Martha_." Jack turned excitedly and expectantly toward the Doctor.

The Doctor shrugged. "That's pretty vague, Jack."

Jack ignored him. "And then! I've got another one. When the alien dude shot me, just before I hit the floor, I thought _please don't hurt Feeno_."

"You did? I'm so touched," Feeno said, placing his hand over his heart.

"Well, I couldn't bear the thought of them hurting you because of me. I mean, we just began travelling together. It'd be a shame if you got vaporised on your first time out, when there is so much we haven't done," Jack said with a wink.

"But wait! They didn't hurt me! In fact, they started to, and then changed their minds," Feeno explained, his facial expression growing crazed to match that of Jack and the Doctor.

"So that's how it works! It might even be unconscious on their part! They're responding to our conscious thoughts, but not in any conscious way! It's not like she said 'bwa-ha-ha, your friend Martha is going to die' when we walked into that control room. She just called us _noble_." Jack cried out, getting more and more excited. "You might be right, Feeno. It might be that the Namuh Gnieb have no clue they are doing this."

"Oh, this could be a major weapon," the Doctor said. "It's a question of simple mental discipline. Strong, conscious, well-placed thoughts." He began to pace.

Jack added, reluctantly, "Well, I hate to bring up the obvious, but I think we're going to need Martha back. I'm not sure my lonely brain can take these guys down on its own - we're going to need extra-strength mental muscle for this, and it has to come from a human."

"All right then! Let's find out what they want! _Allons-y, mes enfants!"_


	12. Chapter 12

TWELVE

Feeno stayed in the Doctor's room to keep watch over Martha. Jack and the Time Lord went to the control room.

Maude was still perched atop the Doctor's stool, this time, however, she was munching on a large head of lettuce. Seeing this, Jack realised that he, nor the Doctor, Martha nor Feeno, had eaten in quite a while. Perhaps some protein and electrolytes would do Martha some good...

"So, I see you've made yourself comfortable," the Doctor said, striding in. "And here I was fretting that I'd forgotten to invite you to help yourself to anything in the fridge. Looks like I needn't have worried."

"Doctor!" she hissed, setting her food down on the console, standing up.

"I hope that doesn't have any water on," the Doctor replied. "The TARDIS is a sensitive soul – she can't take water in her circuits. She'll short out and we'll _all_ be stuck here, unable to move." That last line he delivered with a clever, knowing raising of the eyebrows.

She didn't budge. His tone and expression had suggested that he knew already what she and her compatriots wanted from him, but she was unfettered by his warning. However, about ten seconds later, she took her lettuce and moved it to the stool, never taking her eyes off the Doctor.

The Doctor muttered, only audible to Jack, "Was that you?" Jack nodded subtly, indicating that he had, in fact, directed a thought at her that caused her to move the lettuce off the TARDIS console.

"So, I don't mind at all your taking my food, eating it in my control room, sitting in my chair... though holding me and my friends hostage is a thing I could do without..." he said, almost cheerfully. "But I've got to know: why lettuce? Didn't you see that there was waffle mix from breakfast yesterday? And syrup and sausages. I've got to wonder what caused you to pass over the good stuff and go for _lettuce_?"

"We gain a tremendous amount of nutrients and strength from lettuce," she told him coldly. Then she snarled, "All the better to out-think the Time Lord."

"Of course you do, because..." he lowered his voice, and spoke only to Jack. "... because lettuce has no nutritional value to humans."

A voice from behind came through the arched doorway that led to the body of the TARDIS. "Captain Harkness – he lives! How can this be? And ah, the Doctor," Plexaphedros mused. "I see you've made the wise decision. Though we never thought it would take you so long, considering your love for the negress. Undoubtedly you'd like to see her survive this ordeal."

"Her name is Martha," he said angirly, emphatically, his mock-whimsy having left the room as quickly as it had come. "And if she weren't dying from bubonic plague at the moment, she and I would both likely have your eyeballs in a juicer for calling her that. Now what is it that you want?"

"Oh, I'm sure you already know, Doctor, because you're _so_ _clever_," Plexaphedros said, his hands gesturing in false excitement, his feet mimicking a cheerful little dance, as he crossed to the chair previously occupied by Maude.

"Well, I've worked out that you need to get somewhere, sometime. Now let's all just cut our losses, and you tell me _where and why_."

"In due time, my dear Time Lord," Ahedruma was saying, as she entered the control room, holding the same Class-4 Carrio-Incendio-Particulator that had killed Jack previously.

"Oh good, now the whole family is here," Jack said, rolling his eyes and leaning on one hip.

"I don't have _due time_," the Doctor snarled at the three humanoids. "Stop wasting Martha's life, and _tell me!_"

"What's your hurry? You've already wasted this much, what's a few more minutes?" Ahedruma asked, lazily setting her weapon down on one of the railings, and leaning casually against it.

The room was quiet for a few moments, and then Plexaphedros began to speak. Jack shot a devilish look at the Doctor, indicating that once again, he had aimed a thought at the Namuh aliens, causing them to act.

"If you must know, we wish to go to the early twenty-first century," Plexaphedros sighed. "Say, 2007 or so... I believe that's a year quite close to your heart, is it not, dear Doctor? The year from which your _Martha_ was extracted and brought into the TARDIS and out of time?"

He said Martha's name with a sarcastic contempt that caused the Doctor to gnash his teeth and find it necessary to hold himself back from pummeling the bastard.

"Why?" he asked, in lieu of pummeling.

"Isn't it obvious?" asked the smug Plexaphedros. "To invoke a phrase often used by your own organisation, Captain Harkness, _the twenty-first century is when everything changes_."

"Your organisation says that?" the Doctor asked Jack, incredulously forgetting his rage for an instant. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"I don't know, I don't know... can we focus, please?" Jack asked, desperately gesturing toward their captors.

"In the year 2057, the human race reaches what it will deem to be a new period of enlightenment. And it will be, by human standards. It has, in Martha's time, already discovered that it is not alone in the universe, but fifty years hence it will discover the broadening effects of technological collaboration between the planets. Shortly thereafter, it will collaborate intergalactically. Human minds will open up in a way never before known to them... they will experience, as they say, a _renaissance!_"

"So why do you need to be there fifty years before it happens?"

"We do our best work in periods of the deepest ignorance, and in the time just before a great burst of discovery, man is at its dimmest," Ahedruma explained.

"And that's why you're here now, in 1350" the Doctor said, almost without moving his lips. "Because in fifty years' time (give or take), the Italian Renaissance begins, and will sweep across Europe, causing an explosion of art, music, philosophy, travel..."

"Exactly," Maude said, her face crinkled, shuddering. "Just the thought of that..."

"Oh right," the Doctor feigned boredom. "Can't thrive where the humans do, must bask in their misery."

"Hence the plague," said Jack, now deadly serious. This time unconsciously, he thought _what could you possibly have to gain from wallowing in a plague state, just before the Renaissance?_

Plexaphedros' gaze turned to Jack. The alien looked him up and down, and said, eerily, "Mankind at its most helpless brings us to new heights of power." He waited a beat, and then asked Jack, "Have you ever heard of zed waves, Captain?"

Having just finished a major ordeal on the planet Korr, and having donated his own zed waves to his home planet, Jack answered, "Yes. They are a kind of encoded transmission of personality attributes."

"Precisely. Did you know that a society, a population, emits a different kind of collective zed wave?"

"No, I didn't know that," Jack answered honestly. He looked at the Doctor. The Doctor had known.

"When a population is at its weakest, most dire, most miserable, it sets off these waves... we absorb them. Zed wave number 903670 is the one we like the most. It is utter misery. All the others – grief, sickness, despair, fear, anger – are just dessert after the meal." Plexaphedros said slowly. "Things were going swimmingly, we thought, and then a few months ago, the humans started fornicating in the streets like mad! The plague spread even faster! It was like – what do you call it? – Christmas for us!"

As he spoke, he laughed smugly.

"And then inexplicably, it began to wane, then wane more, and now the plague has almost faded. No effort on our part has been able to recreate the trauma," Ahedruma chimed in.

"So that's why you just _happened_ to have a syringe full of the stuff to jab into Martha. That's why you _happen _to have some kind of antidote which you're holding over our heads like the dangling carrot! You have found a way to foster the plague?" the Doctor asked angrily. "To keep it going?"

The three Namuh Gnieb looked at each other with confusion.

"Antidote, Doctor?" Plexaphedros asked. "We have no antidote."

"And we didn't just foster the plague," Ahedruma revealed. "We _created_ it."


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay, I'm going to admit up-front that the aliens' plan isn't the most original. Fortunuately, it's not the point! Thank you for your understanding. :-)**

THIRTEEN

"Why would we create a disease to bring mankind to its knees, and then develop an antidote?" Plexaphedros asked. "That would be couterproductive."

The Doctor felt as though someone had kicked him very hard in the chest. If there was no antidote, then Martha was going to die. He was short of breath and enraged. "How can there not be an antidote?" he screamed at them. "You just blindly decided to kill the woman I love in hopes that I would help you out of the goodness of my hearts? Are you completely mad?"

"Well," Ahedruma said, leaning back on the console, "If you take this boat to 2007, there will be antibiotics, saline drips, electrolytes, all sorts of things to help her. If you choose not to, and we stay here..." she lifted her arms in a shrugging fashion.

"What then? You'd release bubonic plague on the population again in 2007 so you can eat up their collective zed waves of misery?" Captain Jack asked. "Lot of good that will do, what with, as you said, all the antibiotics and medicines in the twenty-first century." And then, inside his head, he intentionally asked, _or do you have something more dire in mind for the twenty-first century?_

Ahedruma looked at the Doctor. "Your friend is very astute, and very foolish at the same time."

"Tell me about it," the Doctor sighed.

"We do indeed have more interesting plans for Martha's century of origin," Plexaphedros admitted. "Of course we know that mere viruses won't frighten people then as now, and that they won't kill as they do now."

"Well, not _biological_ viruses, anyway," Ahedruma said.

"But how will the technoheads survive without their precious computers?" Maude asked, gloating.

"Maude, I command you to stop talking," Plexaphedros snapped, showing the first sign of emotion either the Doctor or Jack had seen him exhibit.

"_That's_ your master plan? You're going to give them a computer virus?" Jack asked. But as soon as it was out of his mouth, he began to mentally scan all of the things that would shut down as a result. Traffic lights, hospitals, fire dispatch, mobile phone carriers, public transport, and possibly even private transport. Eventually the cities would run short on food, there would be no broadcasting or any other kind of communication, no hospitals to heal the sick and wounded, no way to leave town, and no point. There would be looting, violence and vandalism out of frustration and desperation, and martial law would eventually prevail. And on a personal level, his people at Torchwood would be trapped forever in their underground bunker. It would be the Y2K crisis come to roost seven years too late. It would take a while for the world as we know it to end, but eventually, it would become a shadow of itself and fade away.

Perhaps it would not cause death and panic in the same way as the black plague, but when a feeling of utter helplessness penetrates a people who think they are invincible and entitled, a kind of anarchy is possible that the 14th century could not have fathomed.

When Jack came out of his stupor, Ahedruma was staring at him evilly, with a terrifying grin. She was reacting to his thought, his panic at the thought of all that their virus plan implied. Then she turned to the Doctor.

"Once we get there, we'll give you 24 hours to get your girlfriend to a hospital and treated however they do, under my supervision, of course. And then it's open season on the humans," she stated, almost with glee. Her smile deepened the Doctor's anger, but his face betrayed nothing but a simple scowl.

No one moved for about a minute. Jack wondered if the Doctor's non-reaction was a way to buy time.

The Namuh continued to address the Doctor. "Tick tock, Time Lord," Plexaphedros said. "Your Martha languishes more by the moment. Very soon, with the pustules and the way they're prone to blister and break and scar, she'll be so disfigured, even if she survives, you won't have the caffè-lattè-skinned goddess you had when you awoke this morning. You'll have something decidedly more reptilian. Wouldn't that be sad? Though, I suppose it would be a good way to test your love, I mean, _you're_ bound to change _your_ look one of these days. When that happens, when you regenerate out of this striking form into a mad scientist or a circus clown, if you can say that you were there for her when she became a walking bubble of pus, she'll owe you one. Hm, everybody wins."

Ahedruma added, "We'd leave you to her, to spend your last moments together, except that the TARDIS is resisting interfacting with us. It likes Time Lords and humans... fortunately, we are decidedly inhuman." He gave a sickening smirk. "We need your expertise, I'm afraid."

With the Doctor's face now the way it was, Jack had a feeling that these aliens were going to meet a sad, sad end. The benevolent Doctor was normally against genocide, but this kind of taunting in early stages of his violent love for Martha? He'd be ready to blast their planet right out of the sky. And what made it worse was that Jack and the Doctor knew very well what Martha would have to say about all this: Let me go, save the Earth. Oh, that made it so, _so _much harder. It made them both want to save her even more.

An idea occurred to Jack. What if he could simply _will_ them to drop their plan? Could he get them to react to a conscious thought that they should release their grip on the human race? What did he have to lose?

As the aliens continued to talk, taunt the Doctor with the appalling things that could happen to Martha, Jack closed his eyes and concentrated on a single thought: _Let my people go. Find another way to thrive, and leave our planet forever._

When he opened his eyes, Ahedruma was talking about the genius of her invention of bubonic plague, and how it causes a painful death in stages, and makes fairly short work of a human being. And making it airborne? That was a handy labour-saving tactic that meant that the Namuh could stay put and not have to travel...

Jack's approach wasn't helping. Even though the Namuh Gnieb were insane to keep talking, and he knew that they were simply incriminating themselves by continuing to reveal their plans and ambitions and boast about their inhuman accomplishments, and even though he knew that the Doctor could use whatever they said against them, he wanted them to stop talking. He wanted them to quiet their minds so that he could transmit his thought.

He tried again, only tried specifically to aim his transmision at Maude, who seemed to be the most weak-minded of the three, who wasn't speaking, didn't seem to have a plan to crow about, and who had not shown any sentient signs for several minutes.

He opened his eyes again, and again was disappointed. Even Maude was unfazed by his thoughts. He couldn't understand it. It had worked each time before, even when he didn't know about it, even when he hadn't necessarily wanted it to work. But now? Nothing. These beings who react to the thoughts of humans were showing no sign of even _registering_ his thought. After one more earnest, but failed attempt, he gave up. He opened his eyes, and threw himself back into the proceedings.

The Doctor was standing with his arms crossed formidably across his chest, and his scowl at full force. Jack knew that look. He knew that the Doctor's mighty brain was, right now, concocting some way out of this mess. He knew that any moment, the Time Lord would say something utterly brilliant, something that would lead the aliens astray, throw them off their game and help the good guys win the day. He would have already thought of a way to save Martha, cure the plague in 1350, keep the TARDIS from transporting them to 2007, _and _send the Namuh back from whence they came, without committing genocide. He tried to clear his mind so that the Namuh would not react to this knowledge. He trusted in the Doctor's process, and tried to think of elephants at the zoo. Gwen at the computer. A bowl of fruit. Anything...

So, imagine his surprise when the Doctor said, "All right, I'll do it."


	14. Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

"Excellent," Plexaphedros said. "We knew you'd come round."

_Bastard,_ thought Jack.

"I understand that you are frustrated, Captain Harkness," the slippery alien said to him. "But it is what it is." With this, Plexaphedros turned up his hands in a mild shrug, as if to suggest that there was actually nothing he could do about it.

They heard swift footsteps somewhere in the TARDIS, quickly growing louder. In a moment, Feeno stuck his head in, and breathlessly announced, "Martha's awake."

The Doctor unthinkingly turned and followed their purple friend down the hall. They were not pursued by the Namuh, as they all knew that there was no way to leave the TARDIS, and no way for the Doctor to go back on his promise.

As they followed Feeno, Jack said, "I assume you have a plan, Doctor Fly-By-The-Seat-of-Your-Pants."

Earnestly and quickly, the Doctor told him, "Not at the moment, no."

"No plan," Jack said contemplatively. "So you're going to run it by Martha. That's why where hurrying to her bedside."

"No, we're not running it by Martha, she's got enough to worry about," the Doctor replied. "I'm hurrying to her bedside to find out about her condition. And because I love her, and want to see her awake. She's spent far too much time unconscious of late."

"We're not running it by Martha," Jack said, again, contemplatively.

"You seem to be very good at repeating things I've already said," the Doctor said. "Have you got anything new?"

"Sorry, it's just that it's not exactly like you to just turn up your toes like this, and I'm finding that I need a bit of time to mull it over," Jack said, now struggling to keep up with the swifly-moving Time Lord.

"What has happened?" Feeno asked suddenly, just as they reached the bedroom door.

"The Namuh want the Doctor to take them to the year 2007 so that they can unleash unholy hell on Earth, and the Doctor has agreed to do it," Jack said flatly.

Feeno tried to hide his surprise. "Oh. And you think this is the best course of action, Doctor?"

"No, I don't bloody think it's the best course of action," he snapped. "But if we don't get into a time and place soon where we can get our hands on some antibiotics..."

"Oh, I see," Feeno said.

They were all silent. Jack felt a little guilty for being difficult about this. He'd been in love himself, and he knew how desperate the Doctor must be feeling.

"Look," the Doctor said, running his hands through his hair, and making eye contact with no one. "We could stand about for days and contemplate how to get out of this, and in the meantime, Martha could die. We could pull her in and get her medical opinion, but we all know what she'd say."

Feeno offered, "As before, she would volunteer to sacrifice herself to save humanity."

"Exactly. And she's done enough self-sacrificing lately. That's why I figured on cutting our losses and dealing with the unholy computer virus later," the Doctor said firmly. "I'm not saying I'm ready to sacrifice the human race, but I'm willing to cut it a bit finer this time."

"Dealing with the computer end later... cutting it a bit fine... it _is _what you're good at, I'll give you that," Jack said.

"So we are going to give them the impression that we're cooperating, and then we will two-ex them?" Feeno asked Jack, clarifying.

"Did you mean _double cross_ them? Yes, that's exactly what we're doing. They gave us 24 hours to have Martha treated when we get to 2007, and then they're going to release a universal computer virus that will shut down the cities and cause chaos. We'll let them believe we're going along with it, and then... I don't know. I guess the sonic screwdriver will do its work."

"That's if I can work out where the 'drop site' is," the Doctor said. "That's... where are they inserting the virus? What device would they use as an envoy?"

"Whoa," Jack sighed with resignation. "Okay. What do you want to do next?"

"I want to see Martha," the Doctor said, now looking him dead in the eyes, and seeming as though he might weep.

"Sure," Jack said, turning the knob and letting them all into the bedroom.

They entered the room softly, and found Martha sitting up, sipping water. Jack grabbed Feeno by the arm and led him into an adjacent sitting area. He thought the Doctor and his lovely companion might like to be alone.

"Hello, love," the Doctor whispered with a smile. "All right?"

"I'm alive," Martha said. She tried to smile, but the terror was coming through loud and clear. She was clearly more frightened now than she had been on Korr just before her previous impending death. Of course then, she was drunk on new love and her body was strong enough to exert itself in the ultimate act of distraction. Now, she was only strong enough to think... her mighty medical mind could not stop wallowing in the biology, symptoms and implications of her condition. A big machine that snuffs out life doesn't scare a medical student so much, but a good virus will render one crippled.

In her weak smile, the Doctor understood all of this. More than anything, he wished he could distract her now.

He knew her thoughts, but responded only to her words. "That's all that matters," he told her, taking her head in his hands. He kissed her on the forehead.

The pads of his fingers behind her ears sensed a blister-like protruberance. The pustules were growing; the plague was getting worse.

"What do they want?" she asked. He opened his mouth to answer, and she added, "And don't tell me not to worry about it. I want to know."

He sighed, hesitated and then explained.

"We can't go back there," Martha said. "I'm contagious. Not to mention, hello? Computer virus? How are you ever going to find out where the drop site is? And how do we know we can take these beings at their words? How do we know that they'll actually give us twenty-four hours? They must know that that's more than enough time for you to figure out how to stop them... how do we know they're not just saying that so you'll do it?" This was too much for her, and she fell back against her pillow, coughing.

He brought her water cup to her lips and helped her drink. "Martha, I've thought of all that," he said as she sipped. "But we have to get you to some medicines or..."

She sighed, closing her eyes. When she opened them, they were filled with tears.

"Guys?" Jack said, coming around the corner. "Sorry, we couldn't help but over hear the excitable screeching."

Martha smiled, and Jack smiled back.

"Do you mind, Doctor?" he asked.

"No, no. Come on in," the Doctor said, setting the water cup back down on the night table.

"I just thought of something," Jack said, sitting down on the foot of the bed, Feeno following suit. "I tried to break their will. I tried to get them to abandon their plan."

"I wondered if you'd try that," the Doctor said. "Didn't work, did it?"

"No, how come?"

"Probably because their will is too strong. Their desire to carry out this plan supercedes your telepathic signals... also, they're anti-human, which means that their strongest instinct isn't preservation of their own species, remember, it's the destruction of others. This is what they do, what they know, and your usual _close your eyes and concentrate_ won't work on this one."

"Maybe if you and Martha went at them together," Feeno suggested. "Perhaps if they respond to your will on normal occasions, a stronger will, combined will, would effect them on this abnormal occasion."

"I think that's true," Jack told him. "It makes a kind of sence from a physics standpoint. Two human wills are stronger than one..."

"Now hold on, guys," the Doctor said. "That's probably true, but can we just let the lady concentrate on staying alive?"

"No, let me at 'em," Martha said, trying to pull her covers off. "I'll think them dry!"

"No, you stay put," the Doctor said, replacing the covers.

"Wait, it might not come to that. I think I have a plan," Jack announced carefully.

"Is it a _good_ plan?" the Doctor asked.

Jack thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Actually, it's a pretty shoddy plan, but it's exciting, and it's all I've got. Wanna hear it?"


	15. Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

As Jack finished relating his idea for a strategy to defeat the Namuh, the room was silent, and all eyes were incredulously on him.

Martha was the first to break the silence. "You're completely mad, you know that?"

"I told you it wasn't my best work," Jack said, shrugging. "What do you want from me?"

"They'll kill you both," she said.

"No, they need us," the Doctor pointed out.

She thought about it. The Doctor was right. "Well, they'll put a guard in this room, and then where will we be?"

"That's only if we get caught," Jack said, big smile.

"Correction," Martha said, then coughed, a palpable reminder of her fragile state. "That's if your plan doesn't work... and I'd say it's fifty-fifty. We have no _real _idea how either of these phenomena works, much less if that... _thing_ is still in effect!"

"I believe it is," the Doctor said to Martha. "It's only been a day since we arrived here, and twenty-four hours ago, that _thing_ was going strong. Zed waves don't just disappear from the atmosphere, they fade away. Even if it's waning, it's still out there."

"Good. So, are we going to give it a shot, or are we going to stand around and think about it until this virus ruins Martha's pretty face?" asked Jack.

"We're going to give it a shot," the Doctor said, almost a battle cry. It was a call to arms, figuratively speaking. Literally, he ordered all weapons laid aside.

"Oh, dear God," Martha moaned, falling back against her pillow. "This is completely and utterly daft."

The Doctor sat on the bed beside her, and fed her a bit more water. "I know, love, but Jack's right. It's all we've got." He set her cup down again. "Besides, maybe it's not that daft. Maybe it could work." He smiled smugly, playfully at her, and then kissed her mouth with gusto.

When he pulled away, her eyes were drooping half-shut, and she said, "All right. I trust you."

"I'll look after Martha once again while you and Jack go to the control room," Feeno said softly to the Doctor.

"No, not this time," the Doctor said, standing. "This time, we all go to the control room!"

"What?" asked Jack. "All of us?"

"We need all the human mind-power we can get in there, Jack. You said yourself that you might not be enough to take them down on your own," the Doctor explained. "And though the body may be weak just now, there's nothing wrong with her mind."

He bent down and cradled Martha's head in the crook of his right arm and draped her knees over his left. He lifted her tiny form off the bed, and was alarmed at its near-weightlessness. He knew it was simply perception, because the last time he'd done this, she'd been dead-weight unconscious and he'd been weakened from a lack of oxygen. Still, he made a mental note that she needed sustenance, and that that was their first priority, once the Namuh were dispatched.

"What do I need to do?" she asked, almost in a child-like way, her voice straining against the Doctor's ear.

"Nothing. Just breathe," he said, kissing her again.

"Okay," she said, closing her eyes and resting her head against his shoulder.

"Feeno, would you please bring a blanket?" the Doctor asked. He did as asked, tearing the dark blue blanket from the Doctor's bed, still warm from Martha's fever.

With that, two humans, a Time Lord and a Roy-Leman all left the safety of the TARDIS' master suite, and headed for the control room. All of them unarmed, all of them uncertain.

When they entered the presence of the Namuh Gnieb and the TARDIS' console, Plexaphedros stood from the navigator's stool and said, "Oh Doctor, I see you've brought the whole family. Miss Jones, how are you feeling?"

"Go to hell," Jack shot back at him.

The Doctor set Martha on the floor near the corridor archway, with her back against the wall. He took the blanket from Feeno, and wrapped her up, helping her to prop her head against a column for support. He asked her if she needed any water, and she assured him she did not. When he was quite sure she was as comfortable as she could be in these circumstances, he turned..

"Wouldn't she be more comfortable in a bed, Doctor?" asked Ahedruma, dripping with sweet sarcasm.

"Don't want to waste any time when we get to 2007. I want to be able just to pick her up and take her out of here as quickly as possible," the Doctor explained. He looked at Plexaphedros. "Now you promised us twenty-four hours."

"Absolutely," Plexaphedros answered. "Under supervision of Ahedruma, you will have a full day to help your Martha."

Jack directed a thought at him, not wanting to let on that they were suspicious, and might be planning something. _How do we know we can rely on you to keep that promise?_

The corners of Plexaphedros' mouth twitched. His eyes narrowed, and his female companions responded in kind. Plexaphedros never took his eyes off the Doctor, but his reaction was reaching Jack fully, and setting off alarms. He was twitchy, hiding something. Jack knew definitely now that these beings had no intention of giving the Doctor twenty-four hours in a medical facility to help Martha.

As if to confirm, Plexaphedros said, "Trust is a funny thing, Doctor. I personally don't understand it – don't want to understand it. But clearly, you have faith in something..."

The Doctor was tired of the overtures. "All right then, let's just get this done," he said, striding toward the console.

"Very well, Doctor," the male Namuh said. "It's all yours." He stepped away from the controls, and began to watch the process of travel in the TARDIS.

The vessel began to hum in response to the Doctor's touch. It powered up, and the Doctor typed their destination into the computer, and then reached for the blue lever.

The linear toggle. Martha smiled weakly. She'd never noticed it before, but there it was – the non-time, non-planet jumping device.

The whoosing came, the grinding of the TARDIS' gears as the ship dematerialised from Charing Cross, and reappeared somewhere else. The Doctor stood, staring at the screen the whole time, hands on the controls, feet spread wide apart, brow furrowed.

When the noise stopped, the Doctor looked at Plexaphedros without a word. He waited a few seconds, and then crossed the control room to the entrance ramp. As he did this, Jack looked meaningfully at Martha.

The two of them, in tandem, allowed this thought to resonate inside their minds: _It is still 1350! You have been tricked by the Doctor!_

As this information passed from them to the unconscious minds of the Namuh, the Doctor smiled maniacally and challenged, "Come and get me!" and then bolted out through the TARDIS' only exit.

The three aliens picked up their vaporising weapons, and crying out in protest of this turn of events, follwed him out the door in a flash.


	16. Chapter 16

**_I SINCERELY APOLOGISE FOR POSSIBLY "FUDGING" SOME OF THE HISTORICAL ASPECTS HERE. I HAVE NO IDEA IF LONDONERS WOULD HAVE KNOWN HOW TO SING A SONG FROM A LATIN MASS. I HAVE NO IDEA WHEN EXECUTIONS STARTED HAPPENING ON TOWER HILL. SO, I HOPE IT DOESN'T BOTHER YOU._**

SIXTEEN

The tavern closed early that day. Maris, the barmaid, left through the back alley with her friend Alana. The mood in the air in the tavern had been jovial in anticipation of the day's events.

"'Ave you ever seen something like this before?" Maris asked.

"Not since before the sickness came, I 'aven't. Been too busy takin' care of me brothers and me mum," Alana answered, not with the sobriety that talk of death by plague might have warranted. And she continued, "And I ain't never ever seen a nobleman!"

They walked across town,almost in a post-plague pilgrimage. It was something that was going to bring Londoners back to themselves in the wake of the sickness. And as they proceeded, throngs of people joined them. By the time they reached Tower Hill, they were part of a multitude. The atmosphere was alive with excitement: the biggest public execution in two years! Rumor had it that noblemen who did wrong were beheaded with a sword, in the French fashion, as opposed to the sickle.

As the unknown sir-whoever was brought upon the scaffolding, the crowd, who had _no_ idea what he'd done to deserve a beheading, hissed and spat. They delighted in the power they seemed to have, however briefly, over this man who'd presumably held a kind of power over them.

"Last words?" asked the executioner.

"Yes," the nobleman said, his hands tied in front of him. He stepped to the edge of the platform and opened his mouth to speak.

But he was interrupted by something otherworldly. The throng gasped as a ghastly noise filled the air. It was the sound of the Other Side, spirits crying from the deep, coming perhaps to claim their next fellow. And then, out of nowhere, a blue box appeared upon the scaffolding. It was the size of a smokehouse, suitable perhaps for two men to stand inside. Most of them could not read the words "Police Public Call Box" across the top, much less understand where the lights behind it came from. Men and women alike fell to their knees all around in prayer. They asked for guidance. They asked to be saved. They asked for the wisdom to know what in God's Creation they were seeing... they asked only to understand...

A small panic ensued as people wondered if they should leave for their safety or stay and see what would happen. In its wake, a hush fell over the crowd. And then a voice boomed out from inside, "Come and get me!" With that, a man, presumably the owner of the voice, dashed out of the blue box with three pursuers in tow. The man looked strange. He was dressed in some kind of cloth tubing, and his hair seemed to have a mind of its own. The pursuers looked normal enough, except that they were wielding weapons that looked decidedly unfriendly.

Maris recognised the man immediately. She had not known his name, but he had been in the tavern yesterday with anegress, a friar and someone else, she couldn't remember whom... But what her memory could not tell her, her heart could. This man was the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes on, and she felt that she would die just to lay hands upon him as well. She turned to her friend, and she could see that Alana recognised the man as well.

Maris could feel it: a recognition was sweeping over the crowd. People around her were chattering about the man, his strange appearance, his allure, his handsome face... they did not recognise him on sight as she did, but they too were clearly taken with him. It was not the coming-together of Londoners that they had all expected, but no matter. It seemed that the people of this great city were now unified in their fascination with the tall man dressed in tubing.

He dashed out of the blue box, and stopped almost immediately, as did his pursuers. The man looked at the crowd, apparently in deep puzzlement, and said, "Oh, pardon me. Are we having an execution today?"

Most people in the crowd nodded their assent.

"What have you done, Doctor?" the male pursuer asked with a growl. As an afterthought, he hid his weapon behind his back, and his female counterparts did likewise. He attempted to face the crowd with a smile, but his attempt came off as forced and a bit eerie.

"What have I done? It appears I've landed us smack in the middle of a very public execution on Tower Hill. Blimey, everyone's looking at us, aren't they? Well, what do you know about that?" the Doctor said, smiling, beginning to pace.

He walked over to the accused, who still stood in the same spot where he had attempted to make his last words.

"By the looks of you, it's some dalliance with a fair young maiden," the Doctor said. He leaned in close, "Perhaps the daughter of one of your superior officers?"

The nobleman held his head up high. "Betrothed to one of my superior officers," he corrected.

"Oh, even stupider on your part," the Doctor said, slapping the man on the back. The crowd laughed, and the Doctor smiled genially at them. He had them, he knew it. "Say, what's your name, mate?"

"I'm not your mate," the nobleman spat. "I am called Sir Thomas of Chastain."

"Oh, that's brilliant!" the Doctor cried out. "Martha, Jack! You've got to come see this!"

After a moment, Jack appeared, followed by Martha, hanging on Feeno's neck. "What is it, Doctor?" Jack asked in a slightly forced, jovial way.

"This is Sir Thomas of Chastain!" the Doctor cried out, again. "Look at him! Right here, in the flesh! Can you believe it?"

"Holy cow!" Jack exclaimed. "Man, I've studied about you. You'll be studied about for years to come," Jack said, shaking one of the man's bound hands. "Yours is one of the greatest cases of fiancial deflowerment in history!"

"Yes, yes, thank you," Sir Thomas replied, utterly confused. He turned to the Doctor. "Though I _was_ having my last words, if you please."

"Oh, of course," the Doctor said, though he did not step away. Instead, he addressed the crowd. "You're a benevolent people, are you not?"

A murmur once again fell over the throng, and there were mostly nods.

"Why not allow this man to find peace by singing for him one last hymn? One last cry to our Savior for Sir Thomas' salvation? Sure, he sinned here on Earth, but who among us has not? We have the capacity to forgive!" the Doctor cried. As he did, he brought the crowd along. His words moved them, as only _his _could. "Grasp hands with your family members. Embrace loved ones. Bask in love today, not death!"

And the crowd did as asked by this man whom they so loved.

Captain Jack stepped forward to aid. He began to sing the Lord's Prayer from the liturgical Latin mass. After a few bars, his rapt audience followed suit, including the Doctor and Martha. Folks held hands. This bloodthirsty multitude had become a prayerful group, crying and asking God to forgive the accused.

At the Doctor's behest, a warmth was forming among the crowd. Ecstatic frequencies were rising in the air, and Plexaphedros, Ahedruma and Maude began to twitch. Every fibre of their beings wanted to repel this phenomenon, this disgusting _happiness_ that the humans were experiencing. It was revolting in every way. They began to cover their ears, and their skin began to show signs of anger. Redness seeped into their cheeks and eyes.

As much as Martha enjoyed watching this happen, she knew she had a job to do. She aimed a very clear-cut thought at whichever of the malevolent aliens would listen: _Captain Jack is standing in your way. He's doing this to you. He must die._

She wasn't sure if they'd fall for it again, but she needn't have worried. In front of a thousand 14th century singing Londoners, Plexaphedros brandished his 52nd century weapon and shot Jack dead.

The previous gasp had nothing on this one. The singing stopped dead, and silence loomed as Plexaphedros turned his weapon on the Doctor.


	17. Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

A stare-down ensued as each party weighed his options.

At least that's the way it seemed. In reality, only the Namuh Gnieb was weighing... the Time Lord knew exactly what would happen next.

Suddenly, seemingly without provocation, Plexaphedros lowered his weapon.

But, of course, it was not without provocation. Martha surveyed the crowd. A thousand people had just seen Jack shot dead on the spot, the same thousand hearts were, of course, in love with the Doctor. A thousand faces now registered terror, _a thousand human minds _pleaded silently for the mysterious, handsome man in cloth tubing to be spared. All eyes were on the proceedings, and all of their will was focused on the Doctor's survival. The anti-humans were defenceless.

The Doctor's eyebrows raised with curiosity. "What's wrong, mate?"

Plexaphedros seemed a bit confused. He replied, "Not going to kill you right now."

"No, because you still need me," the Doctor said.

"I don't care about that," Plexaphedros said. "You have deceived me and cannot be trusted. You are now a liability. You must be destroyed."

"What about the TARDIS?"

"We could learn to fly it ourselves, we are not imbeciles," Plexaphedros insisted, uninsistently. "Though you _do _seem to have a sentient connection with it..."

Ahedruma piped up. "Rubbish! Kill him! Take him from the Negress so we can feed on her grief! Do it!"

The Doctor turned to her, opened his arms wide and steeled his face. Martha had seen him do this before the Daleks. "Then take me out. What are you waiting for?"

She rushed forward with her weapon. She aimed it at the Doctor, and then just as her comrade had, she lost her will.

The Doctor asked again, "What are you waiting for?"

"I don't know," she said with a total lack of emotion. She looked at Plexaphedros worriedly, and said again, "I don't know."

Martha saw Jack move a bit, and choke ever so slightly. He was stifling the loud gasp that usually comes with his resuscitation. They had agreed that he would not sit up again after he awoke, for fear that it would break the will of the people. If they saw that Jack could survive the blast, then they might not be so intent on willing the Namuh away from the Doctor.

Still, even in her state, Martha sat down near him and put his head in her lap, hovering over him, pretending to mourn his passing. "All right?" she whispered subtly.

"Yeah," he answered. "You?"

"Been better," she told him, still trying not to move her lips or give herself away at all.

"Is it working?" Jack wanted to know.

"I think so," she said. "They're losing their will."

Jack said nothing more and simply lay there, playing dead. Martha swooned a bit, and was reminded with full-force the seriousness of her illness. This had to end. Now.

"Doctor," Martha moaned, just loud enough that he'd hear her, but soft enough so as not to distract from the proceedings. Their eyes met for a moment, and the Doctor saw with horror that her skin had paled by two degrees. She was turning a sickly shade of grey, and her jowls were growing noticeably larger. Soon she would be going into shock and becoming delirious with the fever, and if they were still here, playing this game when that happened, she would most likely go the way of 90% of plague victims in 1350.

He gathered his grief back to himself. And then with a bravado which he did not feel, he said asked the aliens, "You don't know, eh? What about that idea about destroying the world with a virus?"

With exaggerated inquisitveness, as planned, Feeno exclaimed, "But they've already nearly done that! What more can they do?"

"Ah, but it's not just this infernal plague that they've created," the Doctor announced to the crowd. With that, there was a collective murmur. The Londoners were shocked: they had known that the plague had come from some evil, evil force, but they never expected to be faced directly with that force. And for it to look so human. The devil in disguise, perhaps.

"They plan to create another?" Feeno asked, with the same exaggerated quality.

"Shut up!" Plexaphedros snapped. "This filth, they do not need to know anything. They cannot understand!"

"They do! And it will wipe out civilization, my friends," the Doctor said, gesturing grandly. This was the truth: a universal computer virus unleashed in 2007 would do this kind of damage, but he mentally searched for ways to express this to _these _people in a way they would understand. "Medicines will not be available. No one will be able to leave the cities to escape the virus – it will be stifling, and devastating in all places! London will fall into ruin, and people will have to kill to stay alive... to eat, to find shelter, to protect their children."

The crowd's murmur was growing by the second. The Doctor was, of course, telling a little white lie. He was allowing these people to believe that the Namuh's new virus would devastate the Earth _in their lifetime_. But the truth was no less horrible. Six hundred and fifty-seven years was all this great planet had left to live, unless they acted now. The efforts of these humans in 1350 could save humanity in 2007, they just had to play their cards right.

And then the first voice rang out. "Destroy them!" one man screamed, holding a club aloft in the air. The crowd cheered him boisterously, and a massive, disorderly dance of vengeance began.

The Doctor was horrified. He wasn't sure why this possibility hadn't occurred to him. He'd been around humans enough to know that fear and mass-scapegoating led to angry mobs. Why hadn't he seen this coming?

Throwing his hands in the air, he cried out, "No no no no no! Stop!" Miraculously, probably thanks to his exalted status on Earth at the moment, the crowd quieted and listened. "This is not the way!"

The throng looked at him expectantly.

"Do not destroy! Think!" he pleaded with them, desperation apparent in his voice and on his face. "Think of a world lain waste by a virus. Think of people in the streets, fighting over food."

A murmur again overcame the crowd. Phrases like "God forbid," and "Oh, please, not again," reached his ears. This tactic was working.

"Think! Think of the alternative, my friends," he said, calming slightly. "Imagine these three evil-doers simply going away. In your minds, make them fade from your world."

The murmur was softer this time, and many people had their eyes shut. The Namuh now stood listless, helpless, staring like Zombies. The Doctor allowed about thirty seconds to pass, and then he approached Plexaphedros.

Softly, he said, "Hello there. How are things?"

There was a delay, until finally Plexaphedros' eyes focused on the Doctor, and he asked, "What?"

"How are you? Feeling any side-effects? Say, dry-mouth, nosebleeds, a desire to destroy the Earth?

Another delay, while the Doctor waited once again for Plexaphedros to focus. Then the Namuh asked again, "What?"

"Very nice. I'll take that," the Doctor said, siezing the vaporising weapon from him. He took each of the other two weapons as well, and disabled them using the Sonic Screwdriver.

"Now," he whimsically asked the three spiritless aliens. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

They looked at each other. "Hungry," said Maude.

"Yeah, I'll bet you are," the Doctor said with a slippery smile. "Nothing left to feed on, is there? Now why don't you three just come with me." He took the hands of the two females and gestured for the male to follow. He took them into the TARDIS, and emerged a few seconds later, shutting the door behind him.

"Doctor," Martha moaned once again, her color having faded another shade of grey. She slumped over on her side, losing consciousness.


	18. Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

"Damn it," the Doctor growled, kneeling by Martha's side. He knew that if she woke again, and that was _if, _she would be incoherent and hallucinating. If he didn't act _now,_ he would never, ever again speak to Martha Jones as he had known her. He lifted her limp body up off the platform with tears in his eyes.

They had all agreed that the Londoners should not see Jack revive at all. Therefore, the Doctor addressed the accused nobleman. "Good Sir Chastain, can you please help the Friar here to move the body of our friend back into our transport?"

"Er, certainly," Sir Chastain said. He held his hands out to the executioner to be untied, and then he took Jack's boots in his hands while Feeno took the shoulders. The two of them carried the Torchwood leader back into the TARDIS.

When the nobleman saw the inside of the vessel, he opened his mouth to cry out, but Feeno placed one smooth purple hand over his mouth. Just then, Jack sat up. This again caused the nobleman to want to cry out, but the two of them restrained him. When he calmed, Jack said, "Please, from one gentleman to another: never a word to anyone. The fate of the world may depend upon it."

Jack wasn't sure if that last part was actually true, but it worked. Chastain hesitated, then nodded subtly. He exited the TARDIS looking haggard.

The Doctor entered, carrying Martha as tears flowed freely. He laid her down on the floor where she had been before, and covered her with the blanket they had brought from his bedroom.

"Jack, may I borrow your coat?" he asked, stricken.

"Yes, of course," Jack answered, climbing out of his pea coat. He handed it to the Doctor, who folded it up and placed it beneath Martha's head.

"Sorry," the Doctor said. "We'll probably have to burn it now."

"It's okay. I have five of them," Jack assured him. "Don't forget your bedclothes and the suit you have on."

"It's okay," the Doctor said with a weak smile. "Got about fifty of those."

Silence fell upon the control room as the Doctor gazed upon his dying love. Suddenly, he got to his feet.

"Right, then," he announced, clapping his hands. "Let's get this boat moving. It's 2007 or bust!"

"Doctor, wait," Feeno interrupted, gesturing to the impotent Namuh. "What about this lot?"

"Oh right," the Time Lord replied, running his hand uncertainly through his hair. "I suppose we'll just have to restrain them in one of the back rooms until after we get some help for Martha. We can't have them around humans. Thoughts might incite them back to action."

Jack used a stunning weapon to coax the three aliens back down the hallway. Before he left earshot, he called out, "Doctor, you'd better say goodbye!"

Exasperated at the time being wasted, the Doctor exhaled heavily. Then he stepped outside the TARDIS back into 1350. The crowd had been silently awaiting his return. They cheered.

He calmed them quickly, and thanked them for their help. He assured them that the Earth would live a long, happy life because of their efforts. They cheered again.

"One more thing," he said to them, just before disappearing from their lives forever. "I think Sir Chastain ought to be spared. The Lord forgiveth, yeah?"

The murmur took hold once more, and then someone finally said, "Who are we to argue with the benevolence of Our Lord?" The murmur turned to one of agreement.

"Thank you, Doctor," Chastain said, shaking his hand.

"You're welcome," the Doctor said with a smile. "Now just stay away from other people's fiancées, will you? Perhaps even find your own?"

"You have my word," Chastain answered earnestly.

"Good."

With a wave to the crowd, the Doctor re-entered the TARDIS to find Jack and Feeno waiting patiently to be taken to a later time, and Martha lying on the floor where he'd left her. That sight spurned him once again into hearts-pumping action. It was time to run.

When the TARDIS came, literally, to a screeching halt, the Doctor ran for the door and looked outside. The London Eye. Multitudes of tourists crossing Westminster Bridge. A cart with Union Jack hats, scarves, and iPod cases for sale was parked nearby. Success. Early twenty-first century, Royal Hope Hospital would be nearby.

Jack and Feeno went to get Martha. "What do you want us to do?" Jack asked as the two of them prepared to hoist her.

"Nothing yet," the Doctor said. "The nearest hospital is the one where she's doing her clinical rotations, if we are, in fact, in the right year at the right time. And they will have just seen her last week. We can't just go in there and tell them she has the bubonic plague, they'll have us put away."

"Right. So what's the plan?"

"I'll go. You stay here with her. Have you got your mobile phone?"

"Yes," Jack answered, extracting it from his pocket.

The Doctor turned Martha on her side and reached into her hip pocket. "Now I've got one too." They quickly exchanged and programmed numbers.

"You phone me if she wakes up," the Doctor said firmly.

"You got it, Doc," Jack agreed. "You call if you get into any trouble. We'll come running." Feeno nodded in agreement.

"Thanks, I will."

"Here, take this." Jack offered his pistol.

"No thanks," the Doctor said, patting his breast pocket. "I've got all the weapon I need."

Tourists and locals alike stared at the frantic man in the suit and trainers, sprinting across Westminster Bridge and practically tipping sideways as he screeched around the corner to the right. A few cries of "Oi, watch it!" rung out, but mostly there was just puzzlement and getting out of his way.

As he approached the hospital, he slowed down, not wanting to arouse suspicion. He forced himself to calm as he entered the hospital's main doors. Straight ahead, he asked the receptionist, "Internal medicines?"

"Fourth floor," she answered.

"Thank you."

When he was in the stairwell, he gave himself to sprinting again. He took the stairs three at a time, and when he arrived, he extracted his psychic paper from his breast pocket.

He bypassed the nurses' station and headed straight for a door marked, "Medical Personnel Only." He sonicked his way in, and found himself in a laboratory with three intelligent-looking humans in white coats. They all looked at him confusedly and blinked.

Finally, one of them asked, "May I help you?"

"Yes," the Doctor answered. "I'm on official business with the Tardis Commission of Medicine, very urgent, on orders of Dr. Avery, your hospital's administrator." He flashed his psychic credentials. The man looked at them quite carefully.

"And what do you need, exactly?"

"I'm going to need a few antibiotics in intravenous form," he explained. "An experiment with some lab rats has gone haywire, and we need to reverse the effects."

"Lab rats?"

"Yes, Dr. Harkness, he's my boss, he's very attached to the little guys," the Doctor riffed. "He loves all creatures great and small."

Again the room was silent. The other two lab coats had not moved since the Doctor's arrival. Time was of the essence, as usual, which prompted him to backpedal. "Not to mention, of course, the infinite medical benefits to humankind by finding out how to reverse the effects..."

"Oh yes, of course," the bolder of the three lab coats said. "Dr...?"

"Doctor Smith," the Time Lord answered, shaking the man's hand.

The young researcher grabbed a pen and a pad, and said, "What will you need?"

"I'll need vials of streptomycin, chloramphenicol, tetracycline, and fluoroquinolones. Perhaps also some doxycycline and gentamicin, just to be on the safe side."

As the young man took down the Doctor's order, he glanced over his glasses at the high-strung newcomer. "Really? That exact combination Dr. Smith?"

"Yes," the Doctor answered.

"I see," the researcher said. He swallowed hard and glanced at one of the other researchers. The other two both gave him knowing glances, and then returned to their work. "I'll get this for you right away," he said.

He disappeared through a door to the side, and returned roughly five minutes later with a toolbox-looking thing marked _biohazard_.

"There are six syringes inside," he said, handing the box to the Doctor. "I took the liberty. Will you be needing anything else?"

The young man seemed inordinately nervous, but the Doctor simply said, "No, thank you."

The researcher simply smiled pleasantly, giving the Doctor leave to go. The Doctor thanked him again and headed out the door.

When he was gone, one of the other researchers exploded in anger. "James! How could you do that?" she cried out.

The third lab coat got to his feet as well. "That was bloody stupid! Bloody stupid of you!"

The first researcher whose name was James replied, "Check the book, my friends. The protocol very plainly says to give the perpetrator what he asks for and let him believe he has succeeded, _then _to make the call."

"So you actually gave him those drugs? You just gave him what he wanted?" the female demanded.

"Yes," James said emphatically and smugly. "As per the anti-terrorism protocol in which we were all trained. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to call in a terrorist threat."


	19. Chapter 19

NINETEEN

It wasn't the same passers-by who had previously seen the pin-striped man in trainers running at top-speed across Westminster Bridge, but these passers-by were no less bewildered. And what was with the tool-box? Whoever he was, he was in an awfully big rush, and something mightily important was in that box. More than a few people thought, "criminal," as he nearly knocked them over trying to get back to his TARDIS.

Their suspicions were confirmed when, not thirty seconds later, a team of hospital security came running from the same direction.

As they jogged behind, one rather young guard asked an older man, "Sir, what are we doing? How can we hope to contain this man?"

"We can't for long," the superior answered. "We're just _apprehending _him until the special forces can get in. Besides, all we know is that, according to Dr. Hamleigh, he's asked for the antidote drugs that treat bubonic plague, which is known to be a bioterrorism weapon. We do not have any indication that he is currently armed."

"What if he infects us?" asked the young man?

"Then we go back to the hospital," the older man told him, calmly.

"Sir," crackled the older man's walkie.

"Yes, Hodgekins, go ahead."

"He's reached the end of the bridge and he's headed down the embankment now," Hodgekins answered. "Should I follow him?"

"Yes, follow him," answered the superior. "Which direction?"

"He's gone right, upriver."

"Thank you, we're right behind you."

The young guard and the old guard picked up their pace and began running faster across the bridge. When they reached the end of the bridge, they found Hodgekins standing at the top of the stairs, staring down the embankment. He had a serious frown. Other guards were standing nearby in very much the same state.

"I can't believe he'd be that stupid," Hodgekins said to no-one in particular.

"Well, what's happened, then?" asked the older guard.

Hodgekins pointed. "He's gone into that police box, sir."

The old guard stared at the blue box, and then looked back at Hodgekins, then looked at all the guards standing about, waiting for his order. "He's gone in there?"

"Yes, sir. What should we do?"

"Is he armed?"

"Not that we know of, sir."

"Well, go in there and drag him out!"

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Jack had never been so glad to see that pin-striped suit. And now it was coming at him at full speed, and the man wearing it had a red bio-hazard box in his hand. His relief was palpable and showed on his face.

"Doctor, thank God," he sighed. Martha lay on the floor, her blanket pulled up to her waist, and the Doctor's white shirt which she wore was laid open. Jack had Martha's head in his lap and was stroking her hair, and Feeno was dribbling cool water over her chest and arms. "Her fever spiked, she's been delirious the last few minutes. She's only just now stopped rambling. We've been trying to stave off the fever, but..."

The Doctor came crashing to the floor nearby and opened the box. "That's good, keep doing that, keep her cool," he said, as he extracted a syringe. He chose a bottle from the array, and filled the syringe. He handed the syringe to Jack. "This is streptomycin. It's the first-line drug, should bring down the fever. Make sure you get it in a vein."

"What?" Jack asked.

"Jack you have to do this so I can get the TARDIS out of here," the Doctor said. "They'll have called in a terrorist threat before I was even out of the hospital. We have to get out of here!"

"A terrorist threat?"

"Yes," the Doctor said. "Certain terrorist cells have been threatening use of _yersenia pestis_ as a bioterror device, and I just waltzed in and asked for the cocktail that cures it!"

"But what if I screw it up? I'm not a doctor, Doctor... that's _her _department," Jack protested, gesturing at Martha.

The Doctor caught Jack's arm. "Jack, these are desperate times, and you're not exactly a novice at doing what's got to be done. Please. Do this for me so I can get us out of here."

Reluctantly, Jack took the syringe. Feeno, already one step ahead, had found a string and tied off Martha's arm halfway between the elbow and wrist. A vein popped out of her arm right away, and Jack readied himself. He'd killed people, he'd been killed himself. He'd seen alien guts splattered all over the inside of a containment cell, he'd witnessed World War II in all its horrible glory. Twice. But this... this was a different kind of repellent. This was a syringe, and his friend's life in the balance.

He took a deep breath, pressed the needle to Martha's arm, and pushed. He silently prayed he'd hit the vein (he wasn't sure how to tell), and then he emptied the medicine into her arm.

Meanwhile, the Doctor was powering up the TARDIS. Outside, they heard hard, fast footsteps.

"Here they come," the Doctor said. "Hold on."

As the TARDIS began to grind, the door opened and a young man in a hospital guard uniform burst in. At the sight of the inside of the vessel, he was stopped in his tracks. He leaned against the railing for support as his jaw dropped and he looked about with wide-eyes. The Doctor, Jack and Feeno registered his presence just a split second too late. Around him, the TARDIS shifted out of London, 2007 into somewhere else entirely, unbeknownst to the guard.

Finally, he got his wits about him and pointed his stunner at the Doctor. "Y-you're surrounded."

"Don't think so, mate," the Doctor told him. "And put that away. Who do you think you're going to apprehend with a stun gun?"

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"I'm the Doctor. And this is Jack, Feeno, and Martha."

The guard took a few steps toward the sickly woman on the floor. He glanced at the open bio-hazard box. "What's wrong with her?"

"I think you know," the Doctor said, twisting dials, reading gages.

"Bubonic plague?" the guard asked incredulously. "Do you expect me to believe that?"

Jack stepped in. "Well, look around you. Do you believe any of this, Mr...?"

"Hodgekins."

"It's a pretty incredible sight, isn't it Mr. Hodgekins?"

Jack's tone seemed to disarm him. With one eye still on the Doctor (and one of the Doctor's eyes still on him), Hodgekins lowered his stunner and holstered it. He came closer to Martha's supine form and knelt down.

"Is she going to be okay?" he asked.

"We don't know," Jack said softly. "I just gave her the streptomycin. I'm assuming there's more, but _she's_ the doctor, not me. Well, she's _almost _a doctor, anyway."

Hodgekins looked more closely at her. A spark of recognition showed on his face. "Is that... Miss Jones?"

The Doctor's ears perked up. He came rushing over from the console. "Yes, it is! But you can't tell anyone what you've seen here."

"Like they'd believe me," Hodgekins smirked. He looked back at Martha. "I can't believe that's her. I mean, it _is _her. She's a medical student at the hospital... she's the only one who's nice to us, doesn't order us around like their personal staff."

"Well, Mr. Hodgekins," the Doctor said, placing his hand on the young man's shoulder. "All we wanted was to help her. We're not terrorists or anything like that... just travelers. And our... friend... is sick." As he said the word _friend_, tears came to his eyes once more, which was not lost on Hodgekins.

"Are you and she...?"

The Doctor nodded sadly.

"She never said," Hodgekins told him. "We'd talked a few times, and she never said."

Jack offered, "She's a very private person."

At this comment, Feeno reached over and shut Martha's shirt. He figured the hospital security guard didn't need to see her undergarments.

"Well, Doctor," Hodgekins said. "It doesn't matter if you're terrorists or not. I mean, I believe you, but you _are _surrounded. Twelve guards, including me, came after you as you left the hospital, and they all saw you run into the police box."

"Look outside," the Doctor said.

Hodgekins crossed the control room and opened the door and stared. The surface of another planet stared back. "Wh-where the hell are we? H-how did... Wh-wha..."

"Yeah, sometimes I still feel that way myself," Jack confessed with a smile.

"It didn't even rain upwards this time," Hodgekins said, with awe.

The Doctor smiled at the memory and joined the guard at the door. "We're on the planet Otromalo. We're delivering some friends back home. But don't worry. Soon as we're done here, we'll get you back to London, too," the Doctor assured him.

"We'll go find the prisoners," Jack said, leaving the control room with a couple of weapons and Feeno.

"Mr. Hodgekins, will you give me a hand?" the Doctor asked.

Hodgekins shut the door. "What do I need to do?"

"Take that string and tie off her other arm until a vein pops out," he said. He filled two more syringes with gentamicin and chloramphenicol.

Hodgekins did as asked. He'd been nearby on plenty of occasions when doctors and nurses at the hospital did this sort of thing. He didn't like it, but he liked Martha, and at least he'd seen the procedure from an outsider's perspective before.

Soberly, the Doctor listened to Martha's breathing, and was encouraged to find that it was equalising. He put his finger in her mouth and found that her fever had gone down. He smiled, and said, "That's my girl," before plunging two more syringes into her arm.

He sat back and watched her, as did Hodgekins.

"Are you really going to let me go back home?" asked the security guard.

The Doctor was surprised at this question. "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't we?"

"Dunno. I reckon I've seen too much," Hodgekins answered shyly.

"Aw, no," the Doctor said, waving him off. "Just don't go blabbing about it."

"Oh, I won't."

"Good."

A long, silent minute passed, and then Hodgekins asked, "How did this happen?" He gestured toward Martha.

The Doctor sighed. He looked around. "This is a time machine, Mr. Hodgekins."

"Uh-huh, and?"

Surprised by his easy acceptance of this fact, the Doctor hesitated before explaining further. "Well, I.... you really..." he cleared his throat. "Anyway, we wound up in the year 1350, and Martha became infected with the Black Death. In the process, we caught some aliens trying to destroy the human race and captured them... we were trapped on the TARDIS for a while, plus there was a nobleman and a beheading, a bar-maid, and the entire planet was in love with me, but that's neither here nor there..."

Hodgekins stopped him. "Okay, okay. 1350 – that explains it."

"You're very accepting of all this."

"Did you hear about the hospital landing on the moon? I was there. I know stuff."

"Indeed," the Doctor muttered, smirking.

Jack and Feeno emerged from the hallway escorting the three Namuh Gnieb, who were walking docilely in front of them.

"Do we need to notify anyone that they're coming home?" Jack asked the Doctor.

"If we tried, we'd be captured and killed. Well, you, Martha and Hodgekins anyway. Better not. Just leave them, tell them to find the Bastion of the Otromalos."

"If you say so," Jack said. "Come on, creepy friends." And he and Feeno pushed the anti-humans out the door.

The Doctor stood up and went back to the console.

"What are you doing?" asked Hodgekins.

"Getting ready to take you home."

"Can't I see outside?"

"This planet doesn't exactly revere human beings," the Doctor told him. "Didn't you hear what I said?"

"But Jack is out there," Hodgekins pointed out.

"_Captain Harkness_ is an experienced time and space traveller. You're a hospital security guard."

Hodgekins sighed.

In a minute, Jack and Feeno were back on-board, and the five of them were headed back to London, 2007.

"I'm bringing you back 2 days before you left, so we don't risk the anti-terrorism brigade tracking us down," the Doctor said, spinning as usual around the console. "Stay the hell away from that hospital so that you don't cause a paradox. Check into a hotel until after you know that your _other_ self has stepped into the police box. Then wait a few hours and go back to work. Make up a story – I don't care what."

Wide-eyed, Hodgekins said, "Okay."


	20. Chapter 20

**Okay kids! Here's the not-so-thrilling (but sorta satisfying) conclusion to the story. If I'm honest, I think this story went on for 2-3 chapters too long, so I was eager to bring it to a close. I hope you don't find it too abrupt or cheesy.**

**Thank you for reading, sticking with me! Reviews are love :-)**

* * *

TWENTY

They parked the TARDIS across town, and let Hodgekins go. The man seemed stern, seemed honestly to understand the gravity of the situation and that there were consequences for interfering with the timeline. The Doctor wondered if he now had another ally if he ever needed one. Only time would tell.

The four of them holed up in Martha's flat for the next two weeks, administering the antibiotics on a strict schedule. The morning after they arrived, Martha awoke. She was not herself, but she was not delirious, hallucinating or brain-damaged either.

During the day, Feeno stayed with her to care for her, while the Doctor and Jack did most of the errand-running and domestic odds and ends. Jack did the cooking (as it turned out, he could make more than waffles), while the Doctor tried to keep the place clean. They were still living with the plague, so he was obsessive about laundry, disinfectant and dust. Though, the dust fixation was a life-long thing, as Jack found out. Jack did the shopping, the Doctor paid Martha's bills for her. It was a happy little domestic arrangement that, frankly, by the end of the second week, threatened to drive them all insane. Even Martha.

When the Doctor was satisfied that she was well enough, they all went out to an abandoned heath up north, waited until nightfall, lit an enormous fire, and burned all of Martha's plague-contaminated clothing and sheets. That included two of the Doctor's suits, three of his shirts, Martha's jeans, pyjamas and undergarments, one of Jack's coats, all of the bedclothes from the TARDIS' master suite and two sets of sheets from home. Feeno was also obliged to give up his black Roy-Leman uniform and settle for a pair of jeans and a jumper from Primark (that had been Jack's job).

That night, they had something of a campfire. They all told stories, including all that had occurred since Martha had fallen unconscious in 1350 – the terrorist threat, Mr. Hodgekins, dropping off the Namuh on their home planet, and landing here. Jack finally recounted the painful story of being killed by a stray javelin, and Feeno talked about his childhood on Korr.

Eventually, Jack announced that he was sleepy, as did Feeno. The two of them retired to their quarters on the TARDIS, leaving the Time Lord and his human companion sitting on a log beside the fire. The orange light danced in their eyes as they locked into one another.

"How do you feel?" he asked her.

"I feel great," she answered with a smile. "Can't help it. Good friends, good drugs..." They both chuckled.

She sighed. "You know, it's funny. I look back now, and it feels like you and I, we've done everything together."

He smiled suggestively. "Well, I think there's a thing or two we haven't tried yet."

She blushed. "No, I don't mean that. Just mean... other planets, time travel, plague, terrorism, Feeno and Jack. Every time we land somewhere, it becomes harder and harder to imagine that we're going to get to see something new, do something we've never done before. And yet, we do."

"The universe is a vast place, Martha," he told her. "And there are an infinite number of them."

"Yeah," she said, wistfully staring at the stars.

"But," he said, getting to his feet. "I have something new for us to try right here on Earth!"

She looked at him exasperatedly. "I told you I didn't mean that!"

"No, no, no," he said. "Although..." he trailed off playfully.

She reached out and smacked his legs. "Come on, childish fiend! What are you on about?"

Grinning he said, "Wait here." He disappeared into the TARDIS and reappeared 30 seconds later. He was carrying sleeping bags. "Camping!" he announced.

"Camping!" she said, now getting to her feet as well. "That's brilliant!"

"I figure, all this time, and we've never camped out under the stars just for fun," he said, unrolling the two sleeping bags. "What do you say, Miss Jones? Care to be one with nature?"

She took two steps toward him and pressed against him. "I'd rather be one with you." She kissed him behind the ear, and worked her way down his neck.

"Well, yes, there's that," he said, awkwardly, putting his arms around her.

When she reached his starched collar, she began to loosen his tie. She undid the top button so she could have better access to the flesh beyond. He closed his eyes and let her reel him in. A low moan escaped him as he finally abandoned himself, for a little while, to the contentment of the moment.

She looked down at the ground, and asked, "Why did you bring two?"

He answered, "I have no idea."

**The End**

**Thank you!**


End file.
